


i will kiss your bloody knuckles, i will love you raw

by tinybluewitch (madandimpossible)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically its the Biker Gang AU no one asked for, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Eventual Smut, F/M, Found Family, Kylo Ren Redemption, Minor Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madandimpossible/pseuds/tinybluewitch
Summary: Rey likes her life. It's stable. She has a job that she likes, she has friends, and most nights she can stuff down that lonely, yearning feeling. And then she meets a mysterious masked stranger who's likely a part of the First Order's biker gang and her whole world gets turned upside down.Kylo Ren knows what he is. Who he is. He's never questioned it once he found his family with the First Order. Until a fateful evening when he takes a different route home and sees a woman with fire in her eyes and blood on her knuckles. He should've known he was in trouble.(On Hold)
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 39
Kudos: 112





	1. chance meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I've been reading lots and lots of Reylo fics (to soothe the pain of TROS) and although I don't feel comfortable writing in the SW verse, I was like, I feel comfortable writing this garbage fire. So - anyway. It's almost 2am. I hope you enjoy it! I love this ship and u can take it from me from my cold dead hands. Also, i have no beta readers or anything, so there's probably mistakes just let it ride man.
> 
> Rating is due to violence & yes eventual smut. (I am really not sure if AO3 prefers Mature or Explicit?) So, gonna do explicit to stay safe.

  


* * *

Rey reached for the wrench that was resting near the car battery and it slipped from her grip, falling, and clattering loudly on the concrete, oil-spattered floor.

“Shit.” She muttered, leaning down to grab it with grease-stained fingers. She stood and wiped the fine sheen of sweat that had pooled on her forehead. July’s were the _worst_. The heat was always muggy and confined, making her feel claustrophobic and trapped inside her own skin.

“Hey, kid! Lunch time!” The gruff voice of her boss – Han Solo – called out across the yard.

“Yeah, one sec!” Rey replied with a wave. She tightened the loosened bolts and then sank back onto her heels. That would have to do for now. She removed the rod holding the hood upright and let it fall with a loud thud. Rey affectionately pat the rust-bucket’s hood and turned to go join Han and his dog, Chewie, for their lunch of cold cut sandwiches and soda.

She scrubbed her hands clean in the employee washroom and fixed the bun that kept her hair out of her face.

Han shut off the TV when she entered the tiny breakroom. It was no more than a mini fridge, an old fold-out card table and a little TV on a stack of plastic milk crates. Han had tried to brighten the place up by adding a calendar (from 2 years ago) and a little cactus plant that Rey had taken to caring for.

“Nothing good on?” She asked, sinking into the plastic chair and tearing opening the sandwich wrapper.

Han looked pensive for a moment and shook his head, “Nah, just the same old propaganda on the news.”

Her eyebrow raised.

“Just be careful, kid.” He shrugged, rubbing at the grey stubble on his jaw. “You let me know if you ever need a ride home, alright?”

_Weird…and kinda ominous._

Rey nodded and promised she would. That seemed to placate him. They ate their lunch in a companionable silence with the occasional snore from Chewie at their feet. She scarfed down her food, guzzling her soda and wiping the mustard from her mouth. She was eager to get back to her project while there was still daylight.

Han watched her with an amused smirk and said nothing when she rushed back out the door.

* * *

Rey’s boots slapped against the sunbaked sidewalk as she walked to her small apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was _hers_. The sun had dipped below the city skyline and colored the sky in a rich, peach shade with spider-web wisps of clouds.

Her body on autopilot as she walked, her mind busying with the details of the day and the upcoming visit of her best friend, Finn, tomorrow.

She turned down to her street, one hand on the strap of her bag, when a sudden _shift_ made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The many therapists she had over the years told her this was ‘ _hyperawareness’_ , and they encouraged her to look beyond ‘ _everything as a threat’_.

Rey called it ‘survivor’s intuition’.

She knew it wasn’t much, but she stuck her hand into her pocket and clutched the pocketknife she kept with her. Even if nothing happened, just feeling the cool metal was a comfort. It grounded her.

She was alone.

_Always alone._

But she wasn’t helpless.

“Where ya going, hot stuff?” A cat call ran out from behind her. Rey knew she had a few choices – face them, maybe scare them off, or run as fast as she could to her apartment building and try to get inside.

She stopped and turned around, seeing two men standing less than ten feet away, their faces split into shit-eating grins. They elbowed one another and began walking closer, making jabs and jokes along the way. _Great_. Rey lifted her chin, getting a good look at their faces. Maybe they were just talk.

“You live around here?” One asked, leering, his breath reeking of cigarettes.

“No.” Rey lied, keeping her voice firm, “Don’t you have something better to do than bother strangers on the street?”

“We’re bothering you? Jay – did you hear that? She said we were _bothering_ her!”

“Here I was thinking she wanted to chat with us, being all friendly like this.” He stepped closer and Rey clenched her jaw.

“Leave me alone.”

“Oh, come on honey – let’s take a walk—” He reached for her and Rey reacted on pure instinct. Her arm flew out, her fist cracking along his jaw and sending him stumbling into his friend.

“You bitch!” His touched his lower lip and Rey realized with a smug satisfaction that she had split it. They lunged for her and Rey stepped back, dodging a sloppy right-hook, and kneeing one of them in the stomach and pushing him away. He doubled over with a grunt and a wheeze.

She swung again, but this time her arm was caught, and he twisted her wrist painfully. She slammed her foot down on his and he released her. Rey was an alley cat and she fought like one. She would claw, bite, and kick her way out of this. Even if it was two against one. Her cheek smarted with pain as a slap rang out across the desolate street and she yelped as the one she had previously stunned grabbed the back of her head and yanked on her hair.

Her eyes burned with rage and fury, arms lashing out and body twisting to break free, “Get off!”

A loud roar of an engine came peeling down the street. It was enough of a distraction for Rey to tug her body loose, spin, and strike the fucker in the nose. He hollered in pain, cupping his face as blood ran rivulets down to his chin.

Suddenly a motorcycle screamed to a stop beside the curb. All black, sleek, the rider turned toward her.

“Oh – oh fuck. Let’s get out of here!” The men scrambled with what little dignity they had left in the opposite direction.

Rey looked at the mysterious motorcyclist, idling in front of her, and felt like he was staring at her even though she couldn’t see his eyes behind his black helmet and its tinted visor. She felt awkward standing there, her body still humming with adrenaline, and her cheek sore. She has a feeling it will bruise.

“Are you okay?” His voice is muffled, but she’s _pretty_ sure that’s what he says.

“Yeah.” She swallowed hard, casting a glance in the direction where her assailants ran off. She wishes she could chase after them and teach them a lesson – maybe they’d stop harassing random women on the street.

He nodded, flexing his gloved fingers on the handles of his motorcycle, and Rey finally notices something. His leather jacket and the symbol that’s emblazoned on the front: a hexagon with a spiked circle inside of it. _The First Order._ Her stomach dropped. _The notorious biker gang._

“Okay…well…” She clutched the strap of her bag on her shoulder once more, seeing her reflection in the reflective surface of his mask. Her disheveled hair, the grease smear on her cheek, the damp pool of sweat along the neckline of her white tank top.

“Thanks.” She huffed. She’s doesn’t know why she’s thanking him. She would have managed without his interruption, even if it was well-timed. And she’s not sure how she feels about a member of a criminal organization coming to her ‘rescue’.

He tilted his head to the side. And Rey doesn’t know what else to say. She doesn’t think there _are_ words. So, she just nodded and turned on her heel and endeavored to put as much distance as she can between herself and the motorcycle.

It takes all her effort not to look back.

Before she reached the steps to her apartment- the bike sped past her and disappeared.

* * *

Rey laid on her mattress with the weak, oscillating fan pointed at body. She stared up at the ceiling, her gaze tracing patterns on the water stain marks and tried not to think about the man on the motorcycle. She fails and it irks her.

He didn’t _do_ anything.

He just _appeared_.

But, why did it feel like he could _see_ her? Really, truly see her. He stared at her from behind that stupid helmet (and she knows in her heart that he was staring) and Rey felt like everything was laid bare. All her jagged edges, all her anger, all her passion, and her secret dreams.

God – that was stupid! She pressed her palms into her eyes and groaned.

“Maybe I have heat stroke…” She said aloud to the muggy air. She didn’t know the symptoms of heat stroke, but she was eager for any kind of explanation.

She rolled over, the bed squeaking on its frame as she did so and sent a text to Finn.

Tomorrow was their day. She wasn’t going to let some leather-jacket wearing criminal distract her from that.


	2. feels like loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo burns off some steam, Rey finds some answers (kind of).

  


* * *

Kylo Ren slammed his fist into the punching bag, the chains above clinking together as it swung wildly, and he struck it again – this time with his shin. He bounced back on the balls of his feet, lifting his fists, and striking – one, two, one two.

His damp sweat soaked hair plastered itself to his forehead. He blinked back the burning salt in his eyes.

He was alone.

He _liked_ it that way.

He didn’t have to deal with Hux’s offhand comments and his little sniveling sneer.

He didn’t have to deal with Phasma and her sarcastic jokes. Actually, if Phasma were here then she wouldn’t settle for him punching this stupid bag. He catches the weight with his hands, steadying it, before releasing another flurry of blows. Phasma would’ve offered to spar with him. She loved a good brawl.

He doesn’t stop until his knuckles began to bruise.

He heaved a laboring breath, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost sundown. Snoke would be expecting him.

And after last night’s disaster…Kylo knows that the meeting isn’t going to go well.

* * *

“You. Lost. It?” Snoke cut out each word, a little bit of spittle collecting at the corner of his mouth. His blue eyes are circled by bags – lack of sleep, drugs, or maybe _both_. His fingers curled at the edge of his seat, his eyes flicking back and forth between Hux and Kylo Ren.

“No – sir –“Hux stood like a solider with his arms clasped behind his back. “The schedule changed at the docks. The shipment did arrive- “

Snoke interrupted, “But you don’t know _where_ it is. Correct?” He doesn’t give either male the chance to respond, “And if I remember right that is the definition of LOST!” His fist slammed down onto the arm of his chair.

“We will find it.” Kylo said, “I will attend to it personally.”

“As will I.” Hux jumped in. _Eager brat._

Snoke rolled his bloodshot eyes, “You lost it in the first place, boy.” His gaze snapped to Phasma, “ _You_. You take the lead on this. Find my fucking shipment because if we don’t have it then it’ll be your asses-” He pointed between Hux and Kylo “-that I give to the Sith’s and let them carve you up as payment.”

Kylo nodded and grabbed his jacket that he threw on the table. The black and red patch over his heart. The symbol of their gang. _Snoke’s_ gang. But it would be _his_ someday. He would run this empire of money and drugs and escape the law and carve something out of this shithole city. Something new and his alone. They would take care of their own. They would be untouchable – like Gods. A bulk of their new membership was loyal to him – those who ran from Skywalker just like he did. It was all just a matter of time.

“Where are you going?” Snoke’s voice was low and it felt every bit as much like a cold finger sliding along his spine.

He had been with Snoke long enough to know that was a rhetorical question.

“You and Hux must learn that your carelessness has consequences.” He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from arguing. Rage vibrated through him. It wasn’t _their_ fault that the worker’s schedules at the docks got changed. That the shipment was delivered to a different location among all the crates. It was just bad luck.

“Go out into the yard with Cardo and Trudgen.” Snoke looked at Hux, “And you, with Samdavi and Koltric. Whichever of you is still standing gets to go with Phasma to the docks.” He waved his hand for their dismissal.

Kylo takes all his annoyance, his aggravation – at Snoke and his poor leadership – and curls it up between his fists.

As always, he’s the one to punch first.

* * *

Kylo _knows_ that he shouldn’t be driving in his current state. His left eye is swollen to a slit and his ribs ache in protest as he arches forward on his motorcycle. His tongue swiped across his lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood.

He _won_. He’d go to the docks tonight with Phasma. In the small amount of spare time he had, he was going to be an anonymous rider among the thousands of cars and bikes in the motorway. It gave him a sense of control. Of freedom.

He could ride off and never been seen again.

Kylo turned, opting for a different street than his usual route. He doesn’t have a reason as to why. He just wants to make this last as long as possible before he has to go sleuth around the docks. His motor rumbled between his thighs, the power of the machine making his heart rate increase, and a small shred of something akin to joy fills his lungs.

That’s when he sees them. Two men – based on their height – and a girl. His motorcycle approaches and the loud noise is enough where he sees the girl twist and slam a fist (?) into someone’s nose. He should just drive past them. Let the girl figure it out.

Despite the passing thought, the motorcycle roared to a stop beside the curb. His leg kicked out to balance himself, the heavy heat of the bike leaning to the side as he stopped.

“Oh – oh fuck. Let’s get out of here!” The men scrambled, their faces bloodied and horrified – they knew who he was. _Good_. The thought of it makes his blood hum and a stroke of pleasure runs through him.

The woman turned to him. The reflective visor masks him – protects him – from her hazel eyes. He watched as her chest began to slow, her breathing regulating after the altercation and threat had passed. Her jeans are ratty, there’s a hole at her knee, and smudges of either dirt or oil on them. Her brown hair is frazzled around her face, her left cheek is flushed from an injury, and her warm, golden skin is glistened with sweat. He’s sure he’s never seen her before, but something about her _feels_ familiar.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He watched her throat bob as she swallows, her eyes turning away from him and up the street. That’s when he sees it. The familiarity clicks into place: her _anger_. Jaw tensed, her eyes narrowed, and he can practically _feel_ what she’s thinking. She’s unsatisfied. Her evening could’ve gone many ways, but he imagines that she would have stayed on this sidewalk until those thugs were taught a lesson.

He wanted to reach out and swipe the grease from her cheek. Instead, because he wasn’t a fucking crazy person - he flexes his fingers on the handlebars and the bruises on his knuckles make his lips twist. He’s glad for the thick helmet and visor. He’s glad she can’t see him. They both look like savage, bloody, and bruised beasts. But Kylo knows he looks worse. Cardo and Trudgen didn’t go easy on him.

“Okay…well…” She shifted her weight. “Thanks.” Her eyes are brimming with fire. He wants to tell her that he feels it too. He knows _exactly_ how she feels right now.

He tilted his head to the side. The words are heavy on his tongue.

The mysterious girl nodded at him and walked away.

Kylo watched her go and then he turned his bike around. Those assholes couldn’t have run far. He had some frustration to work off.

* * *

Rey placed the ice pack against her cheek, her eyes following Finn as he paced back and forth in the limited space of her living room.

“Wait, wait.” He threw his hands up, “So – you get jumped and then a dude in a motorcycle just rides up and…what?”

“He just scared them off!”

“Did he have a gun?!”

Rey recoiled, “Wh-what. No!” She paused, “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Oh my god, Rey.” Finn scrubbed a hand over his face, “I am really, _really_ glad you are alright. But maybe you should think about moving somewhere…I dunno…safer. He could’ve hurt you. Especially if he’s with the First Order.”

 _No._ Rey shook her head.

“I feel like you’re very focused on this biker rather than on the other guys—”

Finn cut in, a sort of fever to his gaze, “I _know_ him, that’s why.”

“What?!” Rey abruptly stood, ice pack forgotten, “How?! Who is he?” Because despite her best efforts to forget him, Rey couldn’t. She spent the past several hours, before Finn showed up to eat Chinese food and watch a silly movie, thinking of him.

“At least…I think I do.” His tone became uncertain, as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He lowered himself back onto the couch and gestured for Rey to join him. Her brow furrowed, but her curiosity was peaked, and she wasn’t about to change the subject.

“When I was stationed overseas, I met this guy…” Finn began, his voice taking on this pained nostalgia, as it always did when he spoke about his army days. “He wasn’t a part of my team.” He shrugged, “I don’t know. We were just grunts. But, he worked with information collection and he was a loner type. I mean. There’s always a few of those to every unit.”

“Okay.” Rey pressed her leg against his, as if to say: _I’m here and I’m listening._

It was rare when Finn talked about his military days prior to his desertion. She knew that he left due to his personal beliefs and ideologies and that he couldn’t continue to fight in these wars while people – _innocent_ people – suffered. If not for his pardon, she’s not sure where he’d be.

“He was the son of some US senator. So, it was a big deal to have him at camp, but some people were annoyed that he got this cushy tech job while the rest of us were out there in the desert. Anyway, I was out for a walk one night and…” He swallowed, “Look, it had been a tense few days after an ambush had killed more than a dozen of our men...I guess some people were serious when they said they blamed him for the bad intel. Anyway uh – he was in a fight…if you could call it that.”

“I’ve never seen someone move so fast or be so brutal.” Finn’s leg began to bounce, “Rey, if you could see it – I mean – this guy, he was taking on three trained combat professionals as if they were _children_. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” She felt like she already knew the answer. Because she _knew_ Finn. She wanted to hear it anyway.

“I yelled at them to break it up.” Finn gave a far-off look for a moment, shook his head, and then pulled up a photo on his phone. He showed her a group shot. She recognized Finn right away, in his light brown camouflage, with the big smile on his face, but the rest of the faces were strangers.

“Far left.” He said and Rey saw him. He stood a good foot away from everyone else. Dark hair, dark eyes, body language stiff and uncomfortable. She’s surprised that his fair skin isn’t burned cherry-tomato red from the desert sun.

“You became friends?”

Finn shook his head, “Not really. He kept to himself, but he’d sometimes sit with me during mealtimes. He wouldn’t talk much. I guess that was his way of saying thank you.”

“Wait.” Rey leaned back, “So you’re worried he’d hurt me because you saw him _defending_ himself? And you don’t even know if this _guy_ ” She pointed to the photo, “Is the same one as my motorcycle guy.”

“When I returned to the states, I tried to reconnect with him, see if he wanted to join the therapy group. That’s when I found out he changed his name to Kylo Ren and joined a gang. The First Order is ruthless, Rey. They’re real Anarchist types. They only care about power for themselves and destruction.”

She could feel a tension headache blossoming at the base of her skull.

“This feels like a lot of speculation, Finn.” Rey lifted the ice pack back to her face. “I’m not denying that the First Order is dangerous, but you weren’t there. Kylo Ren - _if_ we're even talking about the same person - he didn’t try to hurt me. We barely spoke to each other.”

“Just promise me that you’ll be careful?”

“I’m always careful.” She smiled, “Pass the fried rice.”

They fell into silence as Rey mulled over his story.

“Do you wanna see the car that I’m working on?” She asked, her mood improving as her stomach filled with delicious, greasy Chinese food.

Finn checked his watch, “It’s kinda late. Will Han’s place be open?”

“No, but I have a key.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Phasma and Kylo Ren stared down into the trunk of a car, their expressions serious and grim.

“We need to destroy this car. _Discreetly_.” Phasma voiced his thoughts, her dark lipstick contrasting her pale hair and skin. She was half woman, half-wraith with her hair pulled back into a severe slick and her eyes circled by dark lines of black eyeliner. 

Kylo thumbed the keys in his pocket, “I know just the place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties when it comes to like desertion/military stuff/etc. Because it's fanfic and I do what I want. and I imagine Snoke looking like the actor who voiced him only worse. 
> 
> sorry for if the POV switches were jarring ...but our two protagonists will find each other very soon. heheehhe HEHEHEH.
> 
> I wanted to also say thank you to everyone who has commented/left kudos. Ya'll make my little heart sing :3


	3. can't fight fate

  


Solo’s Junkyard is illuminated by two tall lamps emanating an orange glow. The piles of junk and crushed cars stand out as blackened silhouettes. Kylo Ren pushes down the kickstand of his motorcycle as Phasma idles by the gate. This was the first time he’s ever brought anyone else here.

That feels like it should hold weight. It doesn’t. Maybe it would’ve mattered to Ben Solo…but he wasn’t that man anymore. His frown hidden behind his helmet, Kylo Ren pushed the gate open. He waved his arm to guide Phasma forward as the cars’ headlights reflected off his leather jacket and darkened visor. 

He closed the gate behind them.

Something felt different about the junkyard, but he couldn’t place what it was. Maybe it was the simple fact that he hadn’t been here in almost five years. No. He grimaced. It was longer than five.

* * *

“Holy shit,” Finn whispered; his body crouched behind Rey’s. “We gotta leave _now_ , Rey.” Everything about this scenario spelled trouble. Finn doubted the other people at the junkyard were here to admire the scraps of metal and vintage cars. In fact, he’d bet money that they were up to no good.

Rey did not move. She just stared at the red brake lights of the car parked near the compactor. What was going on? Did Han know about this? Who were they? A tall shadow came down the pathway, his voice causing the hair on the back of her neck raise.

“Pop the trunk.” Rey felt her mouth go dry. She _knew_ that voice. It rang out across the twisted metal and broken glass. It felt like hot cider, burning her throat, and warming her body. This was her first time hearing it without the helmet muffling his words and the rumbling of a motorcycle’s engine. And Rey, embarrassingly, had another reason for wanting to stay behind and see what the hell was going on.

Because that man holding his motorcycle helmet in his left hand with his lean form awash in red light, Rey wanted to hear him speak again.

“Rey?” Finn’s tone was urgent, but Rey swatted his hand – “Shh!”

The trunk opened and time froze.

“Rey!”

But she was already running.

* * *

Kylo Ren looked down at the two wiggling, hooded, and bound men in the trunk of the car.

“Who were they?” Phasma’s tone is curious and then he felt her shift beside him.

“Hey!” It feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he turns and sees a girl. No. Not just a girl _. The girl._ The one from this morning. Her cheeks are flushed, and he noted (with a curl of rage in his gut) the beginning of a bruise on her cheek. He suspected that she was going to carry an injury, but it doesn’t stop his reaction upon seeing it.

Her chest is heaving, there’s a hole the size of his thumb along the neckline of her black t-shirt, little black threads fray around the edges, and Kylo Ren found that little detail _fascinating_. He couldn’t’ say why. It just was. When he finally managed to tear his gaze, they do a quick once over, to her ratty shorts and muddied boots.

He really should be more concerned about being caught in the act of disposing of two bodies. This girl could call the police. He might have to kill her.

He looked over at Phasma. She made no movement. She would follow his lead, then. _Good_.

“Rey!” A man scrambled to join her side, his eyes are wide with fear and a note of – Kylo tilted his head to the side – _I know that face._

Phasma beat him to it, “Traitor.”

“Huh?” The girl, Rey, looked between Phasma and the Traitor. Then her eyes found his. He felt time stutter and restart. Kylo Ren watched her expression, her brow furrowing with anger simmering beneath the surface.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She demanded arms crossed, all righteous and _furious_. Kylo stared at her – this time with an incredulous look. As if this was _her_ place.

Filthy, little scavenger.

* * *

Rey did not have a plan. She acted on instinct and now she was staring down a man who Finn believed was dangerous. And at this moment, she could believe it.

Kylo Ren stood before her, imposing in all black with his gloved hands clenched at his side. The backlight of red illuminated his dark waves of hair, she could see the smudge of purple and blue on his jaw, and a darkened red line beside the corner of his mouth.

Somehow, she knew that his knuckles were bloody and bruised beneath those gloves. She knew that Kylo Ren wouldn’t take a beating in silence. That he would’ve fought tooth and nail and given as good as he got.

Rey blinked. Where the hell did **_that_** come from? Just because he’s standing there like some fallen God with bruises and dried blood on his face doesn’t make him a martyr. She knows next to nothing about this man. She shouldn’t be weaving stories about him.

Rey collected herself, “I’ll ask you again because clearly you’ve lost your sense of hearing along with your damn mind!”

Kylo Ren growled.

She pushed on, “What the hell are you doing here with PEOPLE in your car!” She pointed an accusatory figure at the open trunk. She could _faintly_ hear their muffled cries. That fueled her resolve. “Let them go right now! Or I’m calling the police.”

The blonde woman snorted a laugh, “Oh – wow. She really doesn’t know, huh? Girl – you’re in over your head.”

She reached for the inside of her jacket and Kylo gave a minute shake of his head. Her hand dropped and she shrugged. Rey wished she had the hindsight to bring her phone with her. It was only ever Finn who texted, and she developed a habit of leaving it behind when she was with him. She could see it in her living room right next to the fortune cookie that read: _Courage is not the absence of fear; it is the conquest of it._

Kylo looked at her as if he heard that thought. His dark eyes narrowed.

“Go home, Rey.” His voice made her skin prickle with awareness, “Forget you ever saw us. Forget all of it.”

Rey’s lips parted. He spoke as if that option was the easy choice. As if it wouldn’t tear her soul asunder to walk away – to _abandon_ someone.

Rey steadied her gaze, then centered her stance and raised her fist.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The blonde woman deadpanned.

Rey struck first.

* * *

Kylo Ren jerked his body backward, deflecting her blow and dropping his helmet. She gave him no room, no pause to recover, and his cheek stung when she landed her next hit. A spark of irritation leaped forth onto the always-burning fire where his anger lived.

He was vaguely aware that Phasma was fighting Finn. That knowledge slipped from his conscious mind. Because, in truth, all his focus and all his energy was on the Scavenger. His leg shot out and connected with her side. She grunted when she hit the ground, he watched her fist curl and brought up his arm _just_ in time to stop most of the dirt from getting in his eyes.

Oh, so it was like that? After he spared her from being gunned down by Phasma? The nerve.

Their bodies grappled together as Rey took advantage of her opening.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Kylo Ren yelled, trying to keep her locked in his grip, “You can still walk away from this.”

“No. I can’t!” Rey shoved her bare leg between his, upper thigh pressing tight against his groin and Kylo felt all higher brain functions cease for a half-second. Her body pivoted, legs tripping up his own and they fell unceremoniously onto the hard ground.

“I’m not going to ignore--” She swung her leg over his hips, straddling him. She tried to strike but found her fists caught between his. “ –The fact that there are living, breathing people inside your trunk! And considering the fact you’re parked near the trash compactor; I can put two and two together to figure out what you’re doing.”

“Oh, so you know everything, is that it?” Kylo Ren snapped at her, using his weight and height to his advantage to throw her off his body.

And then the roles are reversed and he’s on top of her. His blood is singing, and her hazel eyes are burning up at him. A beat passes and then they wrestle together, kicking up dust and cursing. Rey surprised him by _not_ going for the cheap shots and he can’t help but feel some satisfaction when she manages to pin his arm behind his back. He spits blood into the dirt. Some twisted part of him doesn’t want this to end.

“You and your friend can walk away too.” Her knee dug into his lower back. She leaned down, her breath hot on his ear, “You could do the right thing.”

Kylo Ren’s eyelids fluttered. He wanted to laugh. _The right thing_. Of course. Because life was so wonderfully that simple – neatly organized in what was Good and Pure and what was Bad and Corrupt.

“Don’t you want to know who you’re saving? If they are even worth saving?!” He craned his neck to look at her, but the angle is too awkward. He settled for catching her reflection in a spare hubcap. He watched as her lips formed a frown.

“That doesn’t matter! Everyone is worth saving.”

“Everyone?” He huffed. “You’re pretty, but you’re not very smart.”

“Hey!” She twisted his arm; the pain shoots up his elbow and into his shoulder. It reignites his focus.

“Come on, Rey.” His gaze slid to the trunk, “Remove the hoods, see who they are, and then make your choice.”

There’s a loud noise from where Phasma and Finn have been fighting. It sounds like someone being hit with a car door. Kylo Ren saw Finn crumple to the ground, he felt Rey’s grip relax as a horrified cry leaves her lips, and he pounced. It’s not elaborate or graceful, but he outmaneuvers her grapple.

She’s pinned against him, their legs locked together, her back to his chest.

He mirrored her pose from earlier, putting his lips near the shell of her ear, “Not everyone is worth saving, Rey. Sometimes the right choice is just to let the monsters destroy other monsters.”

For a second – he feels the fight leave her body. Her spine relaxes into his body, her body fitting against his, and a sigh leaving her lips. He’s almost…disappointed. He thought she’d have more fight in her.

The air escaped his lungs as he’s slammed down onto his back. Kylo Ren does not know _how_ Rey escaped him. Her fingertips clawed into his shoulders, all her weight pressing him into the dirt, the loose strands of her chestnut-colored hair float around her face. She is wrath, she is fury, and he wants to drown in the sight of her. The lights elongate the shadows on her face. She’s sharper and harsher.

This close - he can see the discoloration from the bruise on her face and a scattering of freckles along her nose. 

Her throat moved as she swallowed.

* * *

There’s the click of the safety turning off on a gun. Kylo Ren and Rey both lift their gazes at the same time to a bloodied Phasma staring down at them – looking both amused and bored.

“Get up, girl.” Her eyes harden, “No sudden moves.”

Rey does as she’s commanded. Her concern shifted to Finn – still lying motionless.

“He’s alive.” The woman answered her unspoken question and then gave an impatient wave with the gun in her hand, “Go on. I believe I heard Kylo ask you to see for yourself.”

Rey squared her shoulders, shot Kylo what she hoped to be a withering stare over her shoulder, and stomped the few paces to the car. Her heart was in her throat. She didn’t know if it was possible to taste fear, but she _could_. The two bodies shifted. Their hands were tied behind their backs. Their faces each covered by a dark hood.

This was a nightmare.

This only happened in movies.

What would happen when she saw their faces? Would she be doomed to the same fate? Would Kylo let her and Finn go? Even if they did, what then? Confusion and terror made her stomach lurch.

“God, **fine**.” The blonde woman reached over, yanking both hoods off at once and Rey stopped the scream at the back of her throat.

She whirled on her heel, facing Kylo Ren –

“Well?” He prompted one hand on his ribs. She must’ve kicked him harder than she thought. A pang of sympathy drifted at the corner of her heart. She shooed it away.

Rey bit down on her tongue and then looked back at the men – bruised, gagged, their swollen red eyes as wide as saucers. She’d recognize their faces anywhere. She swore to herself that she would memorize them.

The men who attacked her that morning. For no reason beyond the fact that she thought she’d be an easy target or maybe their true goal had been to mug her. Or…

Her mind drifted to the other possibilities and she didn’t repress the shudder that ran through her.

 _Forget it_. Her mind rationed, taking the memory and storing it away someplace else. _You survived it. You always do. You will survive this._

Kylo was still waiting for her answer.

Rey looked at her friend on the ground and then looked at Kylo Ren. Her desire for vengeance rolled down her spine. These men were cruel, like so many others, like all the rest. Her fingers dig into the skin of her upper thigh.

 _I got strong so they could not touch me._ She reminded herself, seeing a skinny fourteen-year-old version of herself in the mirror, trails of snot dripping down her chin. _They always hated it when I fought back. They would leave me alone once they realized I wouldn’t let them get away with it._ Nameless, faceless men filtered through her mind with different tiles – coaches, foster-fathers, and most recently – her landlord.

Rey snapped her head up, not realizing she had dropped it when she felt Kylo Ren stand beside her.

“They’re nothing.” He said, his voice firm, “They’re scum.”

* * *

Kylo can see the conflict churning inside her. It’s all over her face. For a minute, he watched as Rey dissolved into a memory. He saw her eyes cloud over and felt… _something_ …twist inside his chest. His eyes dragged along her face, her neck, and down the lean muscular edge of her arms to her hands, her nails cut short and currently digging into the soft flesh of her leg.

His presence stirred her from the memory, and she returned with her hazel eyes sharp with clarity.

“Let them go.”

“What?!” He very _nearly_ roared and somewhere – he could hear Phasma’s snigger.

Rey crossed her arms over her chest. Defiant. Lovely. “You heard me. Let them go. Threaten them if you have to, I guess?” She made a face. Clearly, she didn’t like the idea of that. “Just – it’s not worth it!”

“I beg to differ!” Kylo bit the words out.

Her glare pinned him in place.

“They attacked **_me_** so I feel that I should be the one to decide their fate.” Rey spared the cretins another pitiful glance, “And I say that they don’t deserve to die and they aren’t worth the effort of all –“ She gestured to the compactor, the car, “This! As if we’re in some gangster movie.”

This time – Phasma does laugh.

Kylo Ren schooled his expression and glowered at the petite, pain-in-his-ass Scavenger, “And if I refuse?”

Rey considered that.

“Then you might as well toss me in there with them.” She met his eyes. An electric current ran down his spine. Something within him cried out in recognition, ‘ _yes, yes, I see you_.’ It seemed to say. “Because the only way that I’m keeping my mouth shut is if you agree.”

Kylo Ren reached out, his hand passing her shoulder and he delighted in the way she _tensed_ – she didn’t flinch away from him, _no_ , she merely prepared herself to defend and the trunk slammed shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is leaving kudos on this work :) I would like to say that I'm not the best at writing fight scenes so hopefully that when WELL. 
> 
> Onwards and forward! I literally have just a handful of ideas on my outline without an actual...outline...so i can't promise that the updates will be swift lol
> 
> (cw: fighting/violence between main characters)


	4. forget you in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really, really shouldn't matter. None of it should. Because they won't see each other again.
> 
> At least, that's what Kylo Ren and Rey keep telling themselves.

  


Rey was acutely aware of the sheer space that he occupied. Her chest still rose and fell, breath jagged from fighting him. _Fighting_. God, what had her day become? Finn was unconscious because of _her_. She just had to get involved. A vivid memory of a ruler slapping against her knuckles, a severe woman in black, her lips twisting as she called her a ‘ _troublemaker’_.

The food in her stomach churned unpleasantly.

She noticed the slight tick in his jaw as he ground his teeth together.

“Fine.” He spat the word out as if it were poison. “We’ll go dump them somewhere.” His large shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug, his dark gaze flicking to his tall companion. The blonde woman pursed her lips but said nothing.

“What?!” Her tone was incredulous, “No!”

“You said let them go.” Kylo volleyed back at her, his face twisting back into a scowl. “That’s mercy enough.”

Rey jabbed her finger into his chest, “You kidnapped these strangers—”

“Would-be-rapists.”

She pressed onward, ignoring him, “Clearly with the intention of _murdering_ them—”

“As if you weren’t going to if given the chance!”

Rey jerked back, her butt hit the trunk, her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped open. The moment hung suspended in the air. As heavy and cloying as the summer heat during high noon. Everything fell away. It was just the two of them - illuminated by the low light of the junkyard, shadows cut sharp along his pale face, and her heartbeat irregular in her chest.

Rey pulled all her rage, wound it tight inside, and hoped her expression was as vicious as she felt at this moment.

“You don’t know me.”

_No one does._

* * *

“Kylo.” Phasma broke the tension, “We have other work to do. Let’s wrap this up.”

He inhaled through his nose and took a step back with all the intention of getting the hell out of here. This entire evening was a shitshow.

“You’re right.” He had wasted enough time Rey and her traitor-friend. “I’ll let them go…” He lifted a hand to stop her from speaking up again as her mouth opened – “You should get your friend to a hospital.”

Suddenly, the scavenger _flushed_.

Kylo tilted his head, watching her, as her eyes focused on Finn. Then her eyes went to the shop, then back to her friend, then to him and then to Phasma.

“I don’t have a car.” She said, “and I imagine this isn’t the best situation…” She gestured between them, “To call an ambulance.”

As she turned her head, concern evident on her features, Kylo saw the highlight of her bruise again. Hot-white anger at the men in the trunk flared up inside him. He wanted to beat them into unrecognizable pulps. He knows that in their scuffle, he had made a point – a deliberate point – not to strike her face or seriously _hurt_ her. His ribs ache as he shifted his weight. Rey did not give him the same courtesy.

A solution to the problem clicked into place inside his mind.

“Phasma, help me with the—” Kylo stopped himself from calling him a traitor once more (Because Rey’s gaze was too perceptive when it was said the first time). He glared at the unconscious man and stalked over, “him.”

“W-wait-what?”

Kylo lifted Finn from underneath his arms and Phasma picked up his legs.

“This is our only car.” Kylo would’ve shrugged, but carrying deadweight made the gesture difficult.

He felt the heat of Rey’s stare even though he couldn’t see her. With some uncomfortable maneuvering, they managed to get Finn into the backseat. He wiped the dirt from his palms, “I’ll see you at the hospital.” This was to Phasma, and then, “Scavenger, you’re with me.” He said. He picked up his helmet.

“What?!” Rey repeated, “No – I’m going to stay with Finn.”

“No.” Phasma opened the driver's side door, “You go with him. Because if you go with me…” She flashed a wide, dangerous smile, “There’s no guarantee that this car won’t have an unfortunate accident.”

* * *

Rey’s blood went cold.

_They’re killers._

She knew this. She expected it from the way Finn talked about Kylo Ren, how he fought, the rumors about their gang, how cruel the First Order was…

Yet, doubt still lingered in her mind. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just kill her and Finn in the first place and be done with it? But, they didn’t. Phasma, the blonde Amazonian woman, had pulled a gun on her and didn’t shoot.

Rey crossed her arms, “How do I know that I won’t have an unfortunate accident with you?” She glared at Kylo Ren.

There was something roguish about the ghost of a smirk that crossed his features. It was so fleeting that Rey would’ve believed that she imagined it.

“I wouldn’t want to damage my bike.”

She had no choice but to follow his long strides back to the parking lot. She felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. _I’ve never been on a motorcycle before._ That was a stupid thing to be thinking about with her best friend passed out in the backseat of a car that had captives inside the trunk. Men who had tried to hurt her. But, truthfully, it was the only thought that was keeping her grounded. She could focus on the mundane, stupid, silly little thing and it would stop her from drowning in all that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours.

Rey curled her hands into fists as she stood beside him. Her body felt jittery and tense and exhausted.

“Here.” He offered his helmet. “I don’t have two.”

“I…uh. Okay.”

The helmet was heavier than she expected. She pulled it on over her head and it felt wobbly, the extra weight making her feel off-balance and strange. Her trembling fingers struggled with the clasp and she pinched the skin of her index finger as it snapped – “Ow, fuck.”

Kylo looked at her, his leg already swung over the motorcycle and hand on the ignition. In the low light of the parking lot, his eyes devoured her. Inch by inch. From head to toe. She was hyper-aware of the tear in her shirt near her collarbone, the frayed edges of her shorts, the long scar on her knee from a broken bone during childhood. The nerve of him! She was a bloody mechanic, not some motorcycle-gearhead and it’s not HER fault that the helmet was weirdly cumbersome, and the clasp was damp from her sweaty palms.

Rey planted her hands on her hips, “What?!”

A car screeching out of the exit stopped him from replying. The motorcycle roared to life and he motioned for Rey to climb on. As she did, she stomped down her curiosity. Why did she care? This whole night would just be a memory soon and she could go back to fixing cars and eating burgers with Han and playing fetch with Chewie and doing movie marathons with Finn and…

Rey slinked her arms around him. She was grateful for the helmet and the loudness of the motorcycle. There was no way he could hear her sudden, sharp intake of breath. She fought this man only moments before, but she hadn’t paid attention to any of the details: like how broad his shoulders were, the hard planes of his chest pressing against her palms, the smell of leather and sweat, and the overall _solidness_ of him.

Rey fidgeted with her hands. She didn’t know where to – or how to – place them. Did she grab the front of his jacket? Should she hold his waist? Maybe she wasn’t supposed to cling to him at all? It was just the open air was around them and she felt exposed.

Her thoughts stuttered to a stop as Kylo’s gloved hands covered hers, “Just hang on.”

 _To what?!_ She wanted to reply, but then the bike was shifted beneath them as he readjusted his weight and pushed the kickstand back up. Rey settled on clinging to the leather jacket and swallowed past the lump in her throat.

* * *

It felt like _flying_. That’s what she decided once they were on the road. The wind cut at her exposed skin, but Kylo’s back was pure heat pressed into her chest, and the machine beneath her thighs rumbled and vibrated with warmth and power. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to ride without the helmet on…with the wind in her hair and nothing but space around her. Mostly, her eyes were glued to the passing scenery of the city whipping past, but _occasionally_ she spared a glance up at him.

His dark hair was disheveled, and it only became more ruffled with each passing second. She wished she could see his face.

A fresh wave of guilt rose up when she realized that maybe she shouldn’t be enjoying this.

Rey screwed her eyes shut. This was too _confusing_.

She turned her head, and despite the awkwardness with the helmet, she pressed the side of her face to his back.

* * *

The moment Kylo felt the weight of his helmet touching his spine, it was as if someone poured liquid heat into his stomach. It was torture enough that her bare knees were clenched against his thighs, that her chest was flush against his back, and God – save him – the sight of her wearing his helmet?

In the privacy of his own thoughts, he could admit that Rey was attractive.

But she was nothing.

She was no one to him.

She was just a girl he met by happenchance. And then she was an inconvenience and a troublesome thorn in his side. Once he dropped her off at the hospital with her friend…they would never see each other again.

And, he thought with a bitter expression, their second interaction had resulted in her throwing a fist in his face. Regardless of how attractive he might find her, there was no way Rey felt the same for him. Even if she did, his reputation was a strong deterrent. People didn’t get involved with gangsters unless they had a death-wish. Rey wasn’t the type. No. She clearly had a moral compass and he knew he was well outside that range.

His mind drifted off, wondering idly _who_ her type was, and he sneered at the faceless, nameless individual who might spark interest in this passionate, stubborn woman.

He shoved his thoughts back on the task at hand and focused on weaving his motorcycle in and out through traffic.

She was _no one_ to him.

It didn’t matter who her type was.

It didn’t matter that they wouldn’t see each other again.

It didn’t matter that he caught a haunted look that had crossed her face just for a moment when she was lost inside the memory of something or _someone_.

And it sure as hell didn’t matter that she was clinging to him and he could feel her rapid heartbeat against his spine.

* * *

The ride ended with the words, _Coruscant General Hospital_ , in a neon-green glow above them. Her thighs were warmed from the engine still grumbling beneath her. Her arms and fingers were stiff from the death-grip that she had employed during their journey and she could feel the slight tremble of adrenaline as it slowly began to taper off. Rey steadied herself, palms on Kylo Ren’s shoulders, as she swung a leg over, and her boots touched the sidewalk.

There was a moment where they just regarded one another. Rey swallowed past the words in her throat, fingers raising to fumble with the clasp and remove the helmet so she could go and see Finn. She just hoped that he was there, that he was OK, and that she could piece together a convincing cover story as to why her friend was unconscious in the first place. Perhaps she could be semi-truthful and say that they had gotten into a fight but refuse any more details or police involvement. Or maybe she could say that he fell? Oh, God, how was she going to explain this to Poe? Or Rose? Poe would be furious. OK. Not furious. But angry, sure. Rose would grill her for details. Why was she there? Who was Kylo Ren? What about the First Order? She could already see her friend behind her laptop, pulling up articles and uncovering secrets like she was born to do it.

She grimaced, imagining the conversation as her hands stilled on the clasp, the helmet protecting her from Kylo Ren’s dark, impressive gaze.

“Hey—” His voice cut into her thoughts.

And then he was standing in front of her, his hands brushing hers aside and Rey let them hover uselessly in the air for a second. She heard the click of the buckle on the helmet, a trail of heat scorching across her chin as she felt his fingertip touch her, and then he lifted the helmet off and stared down at her. His face stoic, the dark curls scattered like a black halo around his head.

He’s dangerous. His people are dangerous.

She returned to herself, lips downward in a scowl as she glared up, “Stay away from Solo’s.” Han’s shop wasn’t a place for criminals. She didn’t want to think about discovering a body while fixing an exhaust pipe or stripping the electric components of a junked car.

Kylo’s brow quirked and he pulled the helmet back on, climbing back onto his bike and revving the engine, “No.”

“Yes.” She would stand her ground on this. She’d turn him into the authorities if she had to, even though she had no proof that a crime was committed. Rey would do whatever she needed to in order to ensure that Han wouldn’t get into trouble and her livelihood was secure. 

“No.”

Rey bared her teeth at him, “This city isn’t your personal playground!” She snapped, “Just because you didn’t get caught this time doesn’t mean you won’t get caught next time and it’s not fair of you to conduct—” She lowered her voice, leaning forward to be heard over the engine but not heard by any strangers that may pass by, “Very obvious illegal business at a place that’s legitimate! It could fall upon the owner and his family.”

She crossed her arms before finishing, “But, I’m sure you don’t care about that.”

“I don’t think you can tell me what to do when it’s my inheritance.”

Rey’s jaw dropped. Before she could respond, he was driving off into the proverbial sunrise.

“Asshole.” She muttered under her breath.

* * *

Kylo kicked himself once he was a few miles away. He shouldn’t have let her know about his connection to the Junkyard and to his _family_. Stupid! He wasn’t connected to the Solo’s anymore. The repair shop/junkyard that his father owned – that wasn’t and would never be **_his_**.

That was Ben Solo’s life.

He wasn’t Ben Solo.

The rest of his evening would be a reminder of that fact.

* * *

Kylo stood in front of Snoke and recounted the details of he and Phasma’s mission. The shipment had been located at the docks. Yes, there was a mix up with the schedule. No, it wasn’t difficult to locate it once they backtracked. It was en-route to the meeting point with Hux and a few others. Yes, the route had been cleared, and they wouldn’t have any law enforcement issues. Yes, Hux had been in contact with Phasma.

Question after question and Kylo answered them all with honesty.

Until one.

“So, they’re dead?” Snoke took a long puff of his cigar, the smoke unfurling above his head in the low-ceiling room. “Those boys you told me about who were selling on our turf?”

“Yes.” Kylo stood with his hands clasped in front of him. He saw Phasma look up at him from her spot on the worn leather couch and he held his breath. It was a calculated risk – telling Snoke that the men who hurt Rey had been stupid drug dealers, trying to sell without paying Snoke his cut. Kylo decided that it was safer to make up a lie than to have Snoke find out that he had a sudden inspired flash of vigilant justice.

Snoke nodded, “Good.” He reached under his desk, pulling a glass of brandy out and pouring himself some. “We will be laying low until Hux reaches the border of Hoth.” Snoke waved his hand and Kylo knew a dismissal when he saw one.

He and Phasma’s eyes locked before he shut the door.

He knew her loyalties were not with him which begged the question – why didn’t she throw him under the bus?

A slim arm pulled around his shoulders, a sing-song voice attached to it, “Finally. I thought Snoke was gonna keep you in there forever.”

A wave of familiarity and warmth he didn’t deserve washed over him. “Sigyn. You’re back.”

They walked together – away from Snoke’s office and to the main room of their little hideout.

“Mhm.” The petite woman nodded; her lips curled into a pleasant smile. Her hair was dyed electric-blue and chopped uneven and short (that was different), but Kylo didn’t find it the least bit surprising. Sigyn enjoyed changing her appearance as often as the seasoned turned.

“I admit, I enjoyed my and Njord’s little journey east. Tattooine has the prettiest sunsets. I took pictures.”

She twirled away from him and the floral pattern of her skirt billowed outward. Of course, Sigyn would find beauty where she went. That was her nature.

It always came as a surprise when Snoke sent Sigyn out and no one missed the way he sneered at her. He couldn’t see what Kylo saw. Behind the pink nail polish, the glittery blush, and the loud hair colors –lay a clever woman who played the long game.

Sigyn used her femininity to her advantage. She played the wounded puppy, the damsel in distress, or the heartbroken lover. He had seen her cry on cue and slip him a sly smile as their rivals fumbled and stepped on their own toes. She had charmed her way out of speeding tickets and then some.

But, Snoke only saw a dumb girl pretending at being a gangster. He sent her out on frivolous tasks as if she were an intern at a company and not a fearsome warrior in her own right.

And with that thought…came the thought of a certain woman with hazel eyes. He saw her standing in the sidewalk, yelling at him to be more aware of the consequences of his actions. His dark eyes caught Sigyn resting her hand on Njord’s tattooed forearm, light and playful, as he had seen her do a hundred times. An act of casual and open intimacy. Those two weren’t together, though everyone in his circle had long since taken bets as to _when_ that would inevitably happen.

He stood frozen and watched as Njord rolled his eyes at something she said, a few brown strands loosening from his bun as he shook his head. Sigyn laughed, a high and clear, “Scoundrel.” She said before snatching her camera and bounding towards Kylo.

Something twisted inside of him.

Kylo Ren suddenly felt very, very tired.

“Maybe you can show me another time.” He cleared his throat, carding his fingers through his hair, “It’s been a fucking long day and I need a nap.”

Her brows furrowed, “Ooohh-kaay.” She shot a glance back to Njord, who merely shrugged. “Well, uh, tomorrow we were thinking of going out. Like old times.”

Old times. Before Snoke. The memory surfaced as if it were pulled from beneath the water; _Njord, with significantly fewer tattoos and his hair short, grinned at him and dropped his cards onto the table. ‘If I didn’t know you, I’d say you were cheating’._

_Kylo smirked at him and pulled the chips to his growing pile. He felt Freya bouncing her leg under the table, her tongue toying with the piercing on her lip, and her expression soured as she revealed her hand, ‘I hate losing.’ The table erupted into a chorus of laughter. Kylo suppressed a chuckle behind the back of his hand._

_‘We know. You keep **telling** us...’ Sigyn perched her chin her hand, a shock of bubblegum pink hair falling across her brow, ‘And you keep shaking the table!’ _

_‘I am not!’ Her leg stopped moving, ‘It’s Baldur whose doin’ it.’ She jerked her thumb in the direction of their large companion who was playing the role of the dealer for this game. His bearded face spread in a slow smile, ‘Perhaps, Freya, if you stopped trying to count cards you would pay attention to the rules of the game’. When Freya stood, pointing her finger, and jostling their drinks, this time Kylo Ren did laugh._

“Okay.”

Her smile brightened the room, “G’night.”

* * *

Rey typed in Poe’s birthday and Finn’s phone unlocked. She called Poe, got voicemail, which doused her nerves with relief. She quickly explained that Finn was OK, they just had some trouble tonight, and to meet her at the hospital.

The doctors and nurses shot her and Finn wary, concerned expressions, but no one mentioned calling the police and for that – Rey was grateful. She didn’t want to dig herself an even bigger hole.

She tapped the phone screen, pulling up the search engine and fired in FIRST ORDER.

The results were mostly for delivery service. She tried again. FIRST ORDER GANG.

Several news articles cropped up, but most were speculation. _Possible gang involvement_ , they said, _no confirmation of who was involved_ and _no leads, police have some suspects but will give information to the public as it’s available._

She stared at the input box, her elbows on her knees as she held Finn’s phone. Her heart rate thumped loudly in her ears. A familiar thread of fear snaked its way around her chest. There was someone she hadn’t searched yet. What would she find, if anything? Did she want to know? Would it matter? Did it matter?

Rey inhaled, steeling her anxiety. Yes. She wanted to know. She typed: _Kylo Ren_.

The lack of results was both a disappointment and a relief.

“Ugh.”

She tossed his phone into the empty chair beside her, “Finn!”

“Hey, ugh, I feel like garbage.” Rey threw her arms around her best friend. He hugged her back, nose burying into her shoulder, and Rey swallowed past the tightness of her throat and the pinprick of tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She blurted out, “I shouldn’t have gotten involved like that. I know you said they were dangerous, but I saw those people and I just didn’t – I didn’t know what else to do! And then we were fighting and I just wasn’t thinking I know we could’ve just like gone back to my apartment and called someone and let someone else take care of it but I saw those people and I didn’t know who they were but then he showed me and—” Rey could feel that she was teetering on the edge of hysterics. All the stress and chaos of the day building on her shoulders.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Finn rubbed her back, “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both alive. That’s what matters.”

Rey didn’t know what she did to deserve a friend like Finn. She broke away from their embrace and pressed her palms into her eyes.

“I owe you so many movie nights. Any movie you want. Even the campy sci-fi ones.”

He let out a breathy laugh, “You might regret saying that.”

Her own laugh was a little broken, touched by the emotions and tears that she was trying so desperately to hold back. But it was a laugh all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their patience! I actually sat down and was like OK let's get this slightly more organized cuz I have about like 5 more AU ideas in my head LOL. Granted, my outline for this story literally (exact quote is like) "kylo says something and then rides off on his motorcycle cuz he's a dick'" 
> 
> No beta, fyi. So any mistakes are mine. We will meet more of Kylo's gang in the next chapter. They are - if you caught it - named after Norse figures in mythology. We will also be seeing more of the Resistance gang. (It'll be a Rose/Rey heavy chapter next cuz I love women supporting women.) 
> 
> Secondly, I'm using SW places stand-ins for real places so like:  
> Hoth = Canada  
> Tattooine = New Mexico  
> Coruscant = Main city, think like L.A. type vibe. 
> 
> If you have any thoughts/feelings, please feel free to leave a comment :3 I love hearing them.


	5. stirring up trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose suggests they have a girls night out at the bar that the First Order allegedly likes to hang out in. After all, why try to do research on the internet about someone when you could just go straight to the source?

The library is desolate this time of the year. The summer session was brief, four escalated weeks, but for people like Rose who wanted to graduate _sooner_ rather than _later_ – it was the perfect time to take their elective courses. Rey leaned back in her chair, hands interlocked on her stomach, as she listened to Rose read over her notes. Rey is much better at practical application than theory, but Rose is still grateful for the help.

“God, why did I agree to take an ethics course.” Rose muttered, fingertips pressing into her temples as she scowled at the portrait of Plato’s statue in her textbook.

“I believe you said – and I quote – this will be an easy class to buffer the rest.”

Rose grumbled, sliding her bookmark between the pages, and declaring that they were going to take a break. She leaned down into her bag, pulling two sodas, and sliding one across the table to Rey. The cans pop loudly as they open them in the quiet space.

“So,” Rose chewed her lip, “How’re you holding up?”

Rey flicked her thumb against the aluminum tab, listening to the reverberations it made, and she gives a noncommittal shrug. The weekend had felt like a fever dream: First Order, Kylo Ren, then Finn in the hospital for a day and a half.

“Something he said just keeps bothering me.” Rey said, “I told him to stay away from Solo’s. He called it his _inheritance_.”

Rose frowned, “Huh. Do you think Han is involved in--?”

Rey quickly shook her head before Rose could finish.

“I’ll just ask Han when I see him tomorrow.”

“Why not just ask Kylo?” Rose prompted, setting elbows on the table. Her dark eyes have that curious, bright glint in them. It spells trouble. Rey fidgeted in her seat.

“I can’t ask him. I don’t know where he is or how to contact him. I’ll probably never see him again.”

Rose stared at her, “Uh…have you never been to Starkiller Bar?”

Rey shook her head for the second time. Her friend beamed and slammed the textbook shut. Rey notices that the mischievous gleam in her eyes has brightened and her heart plummets into her stomach.

* * *

Rey can count on one hand how many friends she has. Finn had been with her since she was a teenager, then Poe came along when he and Finn started dating, and with Poe came Rose.

She and Rose’s friendship first blossomed from the solidarity of being women in male-dominated fields of work. It strengthened when they paired up for game night and absolutely _dominated_ Finn and Poe in a show of dramatic competitiveness. Poe often teased them, saying they were terrifying when working together.

But, as Rey watched another dress fly from Rose’s closet and land on her bed, she can’t help but muse that Rose is the _terrifying_ one. Her energy is expansive and boundless and when she’s got her eyes set on something…well…there’s no changing course.

Which is why she’s here in Rose’s apartment that she shares with her sister as her friend digs through her clothes to find something suitable for Rey to wear to the bar.

“Let’s see.” Rose pursed her lips, holding up something red and strappy, and then she shook her head. “Nope. Too dressy.”

“I can’t just wear this?” Rey gestured to her jeans and t-shirt. She had gone out wearing something similar before.

“No!” Rose looked outright scandalized at the suggestion. “You need to turn heads. Get attention.”

Rey flopped back onto Rose’s bed, staring up at the ceiling with a loud exhale. It takes another fifteen minutes before Rose finds something she think would be ‘head-turning’. Rey gets to keep her jeans, at least. It’s one of Paige’s tops that Rose gives her. It’s dark green, sleeveless, with a wave of wide ruffles down the v-neck.

“You gotta show off those arms.” Rose teased, lightly pinching Rey’s bicep. Rey swatted her hand away with a laugh.

Still, as Rey looked in the mirror while Rose helped her apply some makeup, she can’t help but agree the color of the top brings out her eyes.

“I still feel like this is a _little_ excessive.” Rey said, before closing her eyes for Rose to dust eyeshadow on her lids.

“Look, you said yourself that Finn was tight-lipped about Kylo after the fight at Solo’s. Your internet searches came up sparse – which, by the way – I’ll do some of my own digging. The only way to get answers is to go to the source. Just think of it like you’re an undercover spy and Kylo’s the mark and you’re going to charm him into telling you what you want to know.”

Rey snorted, “You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”

“Shh!” She laughed, “If nothing else, this will be a fun night and it’ll get my mind off of stupid Plato and his stupid philosophy.”

* * *

Kylo looked down the length of the pool stick, the fingertips of one hand tenting over it to line up the shot. He is half-listening to Baldur tell a joke. A _bad_ one. His lips pulled down into a grimace.

He pulled the stick back, exhales, and just as he goes for the follow-through the door opens and his eyes rise to meet _her_. The cue-ball clipped and misses the ball he was aiming for and sinks into the pocket. The crooning music, the TVs playing sports, the idle chatter that carries on without him, it all falls into background noise. Into nothingness.

Rey’s hair is down, flowing in chestnut waves, framing her face with eyes lined in dark kohl and lips parted in surprise. An electric current shot through him followed by several rapid questions of why is she here and who is she with?

“Oof, nice one.” Baldur’s voice is sarcastic and booming. His large hand clapped Kylo’s back. He’s not listening. His feet are already carrying him to the bar where Rey and her friend are perched on stools, ordering their drinks.

There’s an Asian woman sitting beside Rey wearing a black dress with her jean jacket covered in patches and pins, her hair in two buns at the nape of her neck.

“What are you doing here?”

Rey’s eyes lifted to his and her lips twist, “It’s a _bar_.” She said it slowly, as if he had trouble understanding basic concepts of language. “I’m having a drink with my friend.”

The bartender returned with their drinks and Kylo waved his hand, “Put them on my tab.”

“What—No—“Rey interjected, but then the woman with her speaks up—

“That’s so nice of you!”

She glanced at Rey and positively beamed at her. Kylo narrowed his eyes at Rey. She still hadn’t answered his question. He thought they were done. Their interaction had been no more than wrong place, wrong time, but now she was here wearing _that,_ the toned muscles of her arms softened by the lowlight of the bar and the peak of cleavage and he can’t help but feel like she’s here to see him.

The thought of it stirred up something long forgotten in his chest.

“I’m Rose.” She said, sticking her hand out at him, “You must be Kylo Ren. I wanted to thank you for your help.”

Kylo and Rey gape at her. It takes him a second before he briefly shakes her hand.

“My help?” Kylo repeated, his brows knitting together.

“Yeah.” Rose looked between them, her hands coming around to cup her drink, “Rey told me that you helped scare off some dudes who were bothering her. Thank you.”

“Uh…” He doesn’t know how to reply to that. Sure, he helped her, but he also put her friend in the hospital. One of those outweighs the other. But maybe Rose doesn’t know about that? Kylo’s gaze focused back on Rey, but her expression is neutral and reveals nothing.

Rose leaned in, whispering something in Rey’s ear –

_What is going on?_

Whatever she says prompts Rey’s cheeks to flush and she hops from the stool, waving at them both before heading to the pool table. The two guys sitting at the end of the bar suddenly cheer as a goal is made.

“What are you doing here?” He planted his hands on the bar, standing beside her and peering down. Her gaze is full of heat and the flames lick at his skin.

“Rose wanted to get a drink and suggested this place.” Rey shrugged, looking down at her drink and pushing the ice around with the tiny straw.

She’s a terrible liar.

“She _suggested_ this place.” Kylo let his disbelief lace his tone and Rey – he’s learning quickly – is a fierce one. Her spine straightened and her eyes blaze back to his, as if daring him to keep questioning her. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I should be the one asking the questions here.” She bit out, “You were all cryptic and then you drove off!” She waved her hand in front of herself with a scoff.

Kylo raised his eyebrow, “Why are you so interested?”

“Because--!” Rey stopped, realizing, perhaps, that she didn’t have an answer for him. She took a sip of her drink and turned her head away. Unable to stop himself (which seems to be a trend when Rey is involved), Kylo sank into the barstool next to her. His knee bumped hers and – unbidden - the memory of her sitting on the back of his motorcycle comes to him.

He can feel the heat of his friend’s gaze on him. Especially Baldur. The mountain of a man was entirely too perceptive. Kylo angled his body, back toward the pool table, and tried a new tactic.

* * *

  
  
Rey turns back to look at him. Kylo’s eyes are dark. The leather of his jacket squeaking as he folds his arms over to rest them on top of the bar. He looks like he could swallow her whole.

There’s a flutter in her stomach.

“How’s your friend?”

Her eyebrows raised.

“Weren’t expecting me to ask?”

Rey clinked her short nails to her glass, “No. I wasn’t.” She bit her lip, “He’s okay.”

His gaze roamed over her and her skin tingled with awareness. “And you?”

“I _mean_ – “She opened her palm, gesturing to the bar, “Considering a criminal broke into—”

Kylo cut her off, “I didn’t break in.”

Rey frowned at him. Then, remembering Rose’s words, remembering her whole purpose for this little adventure, “What?”

Kylo huffed, lips toying at a smirk, and turned his face away. Rey swallowed. She sort-of missed the way he was looking at her. The heat of his gaze had warmed her. Which was _stupid_. Rey never desired the attention of anyone. She learned at a young age that wishing and wanting someone to pay you any attention was pointless. It was better to be independent.

She took another stubborn sip of her drink.

“You know, I’m not sure what kind of rock you’ve been living under—” She began, looking away as she saw him turn back to her out of the corner of her eye, “But usually – in civil conversations – when someone asks a question, the other person then _replies_. Dropping weird cryptic comments and then not elaborating doesn’t make you mysterious. It makes you a dick.”

There’s another squeak of leather and Rey looked to discover that Kylo Ren is resting his chin in his palm and his dark gaze is devouring her.

“I’ll answer your question when you answer mine.” He paused, tongue wetting his lips, “Why are you so interested?”

“If you’re trying to imply that I’m interested in **_you_** —” She stressed the word and snorted. “Then your ego is bigger than I would’ve ever imagined.”

“But you _are_ interested in me.” Kylo pressed, leaning closer, “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. You came all this way to have a drink with a _criminal_. And for what, just to satisfy a little curiosity?”

Rey narrowed her eyes at him. He really was a dick.

And his words were hitting a little too close to a sneaking, dark truth that waited in the corner of her mind. Her body shifted closer. Maybe she could just glare at him for the next hour until he revealed his secrets. She could bet that she was more stubborn that he was.

“WHAT THE HELL! HOLY SHIIIIIT!” A booming voice cut the tension.

Kylo and Rey both turned away from one another to see a smiling Rose, her arm looped around her pool stick.

“Yo, Ren, this chick is hustlin’ us.” Rey frowned at the large, imposing man standing near Rose. If not for the wide smile that was splitting his bearded face and Roses’ own matching one, Rey would’ve been worried.

“You won fair and square, little lady.” He said, tattooed fingers pulling several bills from his wallet and passing them over.

“Do you play?” Kylo suddenly asked and Rey shook her head.

“’Dunno how to.”

Kylo’s lips quirked again. Rey wondered if he ever actually _did_ smile.

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” He stood, offering her his hand, “If you win, I’ll answer every question you have.”

Rey didn’t need any further incentive than that.

He shed his jacket, draping it over the back of one of the table’s chairs, and Rey is greeted with the muscled strength of his arms. The black t-shirt molded to his shoulders, fabric straining as he reached across the green felt pool table and collected the billiard balls. Her mouth is very, very dry.

Rose – bless her – is oblivious. She’s absorbed in her next game, shooting quips and jabs with the tall man, who is in the middle of telling quite possibly the worst Dad joke Rey’s ever heard.

Kylo twisted his wrist around the tip of the pool cue, his fingers dusting blue from the chalk and he passed it to Rey.

“Okay. First round, I’ll teach you the basics. Then we’ll play for real.”

“And you promise to answer all my questions with _honesty_?” Rey said.

Kylo’s eyes narrowed slightly, “I have never lied to you, Rey.” His voice low and intense.

The words send a confusing chill down her spine. Rey shrugged and gave a gesture with her open palm for him to just _Get on with it_. She was a quick study. She’d pick up this game in no time and get her answers. She mirrored Rose’s pose as she bent down, holding the cue stick, and her fingers fumbling to curl around the tip.

Kylo walked behind her, there’s a moment of hesitation, his hands hovering near her body but not touching and all Rey can feel is heat. “May I?”

The air was stolen from her lungs. Her eyebrows raised to her hairline and Rey nodded. He _towered_ over her. His large hand dwarfed hers as he adjusted her fingers, demonstrating through touch— “So, you can hold it like this. Or this.” His voice rumbled against her back and the sound sent another fluttering sensation straight down to her toes. 

She can feel the hard planes of muscle of his abdomen as he bends over her. He touched her elbow to adjust her position again. She swallowed thickly. She had an _idea_ about his body from the night she rode on the back of his motorcycle. But this was—

Rey’s blush crept up down to the exposed skin of her neck. There’s an _insane_ desire to lean back against him. She clenched her jaw. Maybe this was all part of his plan. He’s distracting her so she can’t learn the game properly.

She should’ve asked Rose to teach her.

“Pull back,” He instructed, thumb grazing across her wrist bone, “And then follow through.” He moved back and Rey shot him a glare over her shoulder. He’s smirking.

“Asshole.” She muttered, without heat before focusing on the directions he gave.

The white ball skid across the billiard table and barely tapped the pyramid of stripes and solid balls.

“Hm. More force.”

Rey snatched the ball back, re-positioned herself, and then – feeling like he deserves it – wiggled her butt a little. A smirk of satisfaction bloomed across her face as she hears a strangled cough from behind her.

This time, she managed to break open the cluster and the balls go spinning in various directions. She straightened her spine and tossed another look over her shoulder, “You’re up, Kylo.”

* * *

He caught her staring _twice_ now. They’re in the middle of their first _real_ game. It’s a shame that he’s done teaching her how to play because he _really_ enjoyed standing behind her and fixing her stance or adjusting her grip. He may have gone a little over the top with it. But Rey hadn’t noticed.

Or…judging by her glances…she noticed and just didn’t care.

“So, what happens if you win?” Rey asked, tilting her head back as she finished her drink. Kylo watched the column of her throat move as she swallowed.  
  
She met his gaze with an easy and bright smile, “Not that you will.”

Kylo bent down, lining up his shot, “Seven, corner pocket.” He called it, then lifted his eyes to look at her. “When I win…”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes _. Confident little Scavenger._

“You let me take you out on my bike again.” He said before the balls clacked together and the ball numbered 7 fell into the pocket. Another point for him. He had three more balls to sink before he went for the eight-ball and claimed his win.

“That’s all you want?” She folded her arms across her chest.

He shrugged.

“First time was out of necessity.” He said, “It’s far more enjoyable if you don’t have a destination.”

 _That_ got her attention. His head tilted slightly as he watched her expression shift. Her lips parted, her hazel eyes widened, an expression of pure openness and excitement. She snapped out of it and clamped her jaw shut.

“Whatever.” She pursed her lips, “’s’not like you’re gonna win anyways.”

“Amazing.” Kylo leaned his hip against the side of the pool table, “Every word you just said was wrong.”

She missed her next shot, but he so did he.

“How long have you been working on cars?” He asked. It was just a guess, but an educated one, a hypothesis that he’d been mulling over. His father’s junkyard didn’t just specialize in disposal. To most, it was just Solo’s Junkyard: The place to scrap that car your grandmother stopped driving that was too expensive to keep on the road. But, to the savvy individuals who knew about cars and motorcycles, it was the place to rebuild something.

Rey laughed a little, “Who said I was a mechanic?”

“The grease stains on your shorts when we met.” He said, his face impassive. Her eyelashes fluttered and he can see the sharp rise of her chest even though he can’t hear her gasp. “Your vehemence that I stay away from Solo’s.”

Anger flashed in those impossibly bright eyes – “You _should_ stay away.”

Kylo swallowed, realizing that she’s stepped closer, their bodies almost chest to chest.

He can’t help but tease her.

His voice dropped and so does his gaze, lingering on the shape of her lips, “Should I?”

“Yes.” Rey exhaled. This close he can feel her breath on his exposed throat as she tilts her face up to meet his gaze.

“And you?”

Her brows furrowed at his words.

“Should I stay away from you?”

“I—”

The door to the bar flew open, “KYLO!” Sigyn’s voice is sharp. Her eyes are wild and panicked. The anxiety rolling from her in waves as she stood in the doorway with her hand still clutching the handle.

She then noticed that there were strangers in the bar and her voice softened - “Sorry. I – uh –?”

Kylo registered the clatter of a pool-stick as Baldur dropped it to the floor. His long strides carrying him to the door and guiding Sigyn outside with him. Kylo took a step back from Rey, watching her face, her expression crumbling – she’s _disappointed_? A second passed and it’s gone and replaced with a small smile.

He doesn’t know what Sigyn needs, but he knows that she needs him. That’s reason enough to leave.

She’s his family, after all.

He set the pool stick down on the table, “I’ll keep my tab open for you.” He said, nodding his head to the bar. 

“Wait.” She stepped forward and he can see the color rising in her cheeks. “Did you want to—” She then bit her lip, silencing herself, and shook her head. “Nevermind.”

The words are out before he can stop them— “We’ll finish our game another time.”

Kylo left before he could change his mind. And there’s a nagging feeling in his gut as he walked away.

He tries to ignore it.

* * *

Rose sidled up beside Rey and placed a hand at the small of her back, “That went well! I made like two-hundred bucks from that guy – Baldur. He’s nice! Oh! Wait – shit. Is that his jacket?” Rose pointed to the chair.

Without thinking, Rey picked it up, looking around the mostly empty bar, “I’m assuming this place doesn’t have a Lost and Found.”

“Probably not.” Rose interlaced her fingers, a little smile illuminating her round cheeks, “Buuuut - I have an idea.”

Rey exhaled a sigh.

“Don’t you have Philosophy homework to finish?”

Rose made a face.

“Socrates can wait. Just hear me out.”

* * *

Rey admitted – later – in the safety of her tiny apartment while she munched on potato chips that Rose’s idea wasn’t _that_ bad.

Her eyes dart over to the jacket draped over her armchair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was TOUGH for me to get out. My inspiration was all over the place and then we have quarantine happening. Whew it's been a lot. I would like to thank Hoziers' "WORK SONG" for getting me through it. Damn that song slaps. 
> 
> anyway, thoughts? feelings? I randomly decided at the last second for Rey to keep his jacket cuz I'm a sappy bitch.
> 
> Oh and Rey's top is [this one](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0800/4863/products/Dark_Green_Top_with_Ruffles_1600x.jpg?v=1530718777)


	6. her pain is my pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baldur once told him that he didn't believe in luck, or fate, or destiny. Kylo isn't sure he agrees with him anymore.

Sigyn was right to come get them. Baldur told her so– at least twenty times – as they blaze through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic, to Freya’s location.

Freya is, much to Kylo’s annoyance, one of Snoke’s favorites. He always asked her if Snoke every did anything, any abuse of power, anything that might’ve made Freya uncomfortable or put her into a compromising position, but Freya would answer him with a tight glare and a dangerous grin. After a while, Kylo stopped asking. Freya was a wildcat. She would lash out and strike before she ever submitted to anyone.

 _She was different…before all this._ He mused, engine revving as their group rushed through a yellow traffic light. The polished streets turn sinister as windows stop gleaming and start holding ‘FOR SALE’ signs and ‘DO NOT TRESSPASS’ accompanied with wooden blockades and chains. The sidewalks are eerily desolate and Kylo has a sinking, disturbing feeling in his stomach.

An errant thought crossed his mind; _Hopefully Rey doesn’t try to follow you._ He quashed it down. He hoped the Scavenger had more common sense than that. Sigyn gestured and they followed her lead, her flowered skirts billowing out behind her as she sped around the corner and switched off her headlights.

“Son of a bitch.” Baldur intoned, recognizing the building.

“Why the hell would Snoke send her _here_?” Kylo’s voice is heated and he can feel the warmth of his breath as it bounced back from the inside of his helmet. He tore the helmet from off his head and glowered at the dilapidated warehouse. Anger was roiling in his gut. If Snoke was anywhere near him, he would have wrapped his hands around the old-fuckers neck and squeezed the life out of him. His companions shared similar expressions.

“She disobeyed him.” Sigyn’s voice is tight and coiled and Kylo imagined that she’s holding in the same rage. “He wanted her to…take care of some kids who stole from one of his fences. But they were kids. You know? _Fourteen_.”

“Who did he choose to get the job done then?” Baldur asked, sliding his brass knuckles onto his thick fingers.

“Hux.”

The three share a glance. Among them, no one liked or trusted Hux. Kylo found him to be annoying, sniveling, and cantankerous. But, if Hux was willing to kill someone who barely reached puberty just to keep _Snoke_ happy. Another roll of anger coiled through his stomach. _Hux would need to go, too._ He made a silent vow then. Kylo could not lead the First Order with Hux still around.

“Well.” Sigyn plants her booted feet against the dirt, angling her chin up toward the abandoned warehouse, “Let’s stir up some shit.” Her smile is sharp in the low-light, “ _Fuck_ Snoke.”

Kylo couldn’t agree more.

* * *

The fighting pits were exactly as he remembered. Snoke’s punishment is often in the form of brawls between his underlings.

Unless, of course, the person has made a grievous error. Then – they’re sent _here_. The smell of blood, body order, and harsh disinfectant hits Kylo first. The concrete floor is mopped clean between rounds and Kylo would be lying if he said that people didn’t die here. They did.

It was just well-hidden.

There’s a howl – _Freya_ \- and Kylo bodily shoved his way through the jostling and cheering crowd. Being taller than everyone else had its merits. There’s a space roped off for the brawls to take place. It’s often one against three. Sometimes more, but _never_ less. It only ends at a knock-out or verbal submission.

His eyes caught Freya’s sharp kick – the sound of crushing bone crackling across the spectators collective surprised gasp.

“Fucker.” She spat, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Kylo noticed she’s removed her facial piercings for the sake of the fight. He shoved another shoulder out of his way, uncaring at the words that are yelled at his back. Her cool gaze scanned the crowd and met his.

Her smile is red.

Kylo vaulted over the heavy chain that separated the crowd from the fighters. In his next movement, he’s grabbing the brawler closest to him by the back of the neck and slamming him forward onto the ground as if he weighed nothing.

He ignored the complaining shouts of the ringleaders and the crowed _loses_ their mind. He glowered, sliding into step next to Freya, and lifts his fists.

“UNCONVENTIONAL. BUT IT APPEARS WE HAVE ANOTHER CHAMPION IN THE RING.” A beady-eyed man shouted over the din, “PLACE YOUR BETS.”

Kylo found Baldur’s gaze (easy enough, the man is _basically_ a mountain) and gave him an imperceptible nod.

Round Two began with Freya and Kylo facing off against five opponents. The odds are always stacked against them. Not that it matters. He and Freya have known each other a long time and falling into a rhythm of fighting with her is as automatic as breathing.

Kylo slammed his knee into the gut of his adversary, relishing in the way the other man wheezed in pain, before he grabbed his skull and yanked him sideways – sending him toppling down onto the ground and toward the spectators. Freya is smaller, nimbler, and she slinked between the bodies – a lethal hummingbird.

At one point, they’re back to back and Kylo _knows_ this is what is right.

It is always meant to be them – his true family - against the world.

No one else.

He can trust them: Freya, Sigyn, Baldur, and Njord. When they named themselves the Knights of Ren – that had been because they saw _him_ as its leader.

He would never abandon them. Kylo smashed his open palm into a man’s nose.

He would never let them fight alone. His forearm blocked and he spun around on his heel, leaving his opponents confused for a moment.

He would never lie to them. Freya grunted as her attacker landed a clean shot to her jaw and she _laughed_ – her follow-up attacks vicious and quick.

Kylo gnashed his teeth together, his lips pulled into an ugly snarl as he falls backward and wrestled with his attacker. It’s a deliberate move. The man above him hollered in pain as Freya is suddenly behind him, grabbing him by his ponytail and ripping him off Kylo’s chest.

The end of the second round is when the gates of Hell open.

Baldur’s voice, louder than the rest, “Hey! Those are _my_ winnings!”

Suddenly, Baldur is throwing punches left and right, while the ringleaders are desperate to maintain control. It’s turned into a blood frenzy. The energy of the room is coiled to explode and all it takes is _one_ unruly customer. Baldur boomed with laughter and starts goading his attackers.

Freya stole a look at Kylo. Her lips pulled into a grimace.

“You never do things, properly, do you?” She teased, deflecting a blow, and whipping her leg out to catch them in the sternum.

“I thought you liked breaking the rules.” Kylo deadpanned. He shouldered off someone trying to jump onto his back.

Freya rolled her eyes, a bone cracking as she snapped their wrist, “Hmph.”

Sigyn appeared behind Freya, her lower lip bleeding, “C’mon!” She shouted over the violence.

Kylo felt an awareness, a tingle, at the back of his neck. His eyes roamed furtively across the shadowed faces while simultaneously trying to defend against the attacks. His gaze zeroed in on Sigyn’s bright blue hair in the crowd, Freya nearby, as they shoved their way through the masses. Some of the spectators have mauled their way through, others remaining to continue the fight, while others outright fled when everything boiled over.

He can’t shake the feeling that’s clinging to spine and forcing his hair to stand on its end.

Despite the noise, the chaos, and the fact that the woman is at least twenty paces ahead – Kylo heard her scream: “Freya!”

The world burned white.

* * *

Rey fiddled with the warm, golden trinket inside the pocket of Kylo’s jacket. She ran her thumb over the grooves and the chain. Her legs were folded underneath her on the couch while Finn and Poe finished setting up the board game.

She and Rose weren’t planning on having an impromptu game night after their hours spent at Starkiller.

But it wasn’t like Rey had a reason to stick around once Kylo left. And besides, her apartment was kind of lonely. It was better to be here. Wine, her friends, and Poe’s _incredible_ cooking.

“I still think it’s weird that you kept the jacket.” Finn said, setting down the pieces for Monopoly.

“It was Rose’s idea.” Rey replied, ducking her nose into the side collar. It smelled like him. Which – of course it did. It was _his_ jacket. It was cozy and woodsy, and Rey liked how it felt wrapped around her. The inside was silky and luxurious against her skin.

“I already decided that I would go back tomorrow and find him and give it back.”

“Did you forget what happened?” Finn doesn’t sound cross with her. Just…confused.

“Of course not, Finn!” Rey let out a sigh, “I just – I don’t know. There’s something about him.”

“He’s HOT!” Rose chimed in from the adjoining kitchen, she joined them in the living room with a large plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit. “Like, not in a _nice_ way – like you – Poe.”

“Gee, thanks.” Poe rolled his eyes.

There was another slamming sound from next door and the group jumped.

“God, that’s like the fourth time that’s happened.” Finn snapped; his brow furrowed.

“Are they having a fight?” Rose asked.

Poe is the first to answer, “No, it’s just one guy who lives there. Owen.”

Suddenly, there’s a distinct female scream and Finn’s on his feet.

“Finn!” Rose called after him, “Rey!” but, Rey is following Finn and then Poe is following her.

Finn slammed his fist on the door, “Hey! Everything alright in there?” No answer. He tried again. “It’s Finn! Do you need us to call someone?!”

Rey planted her hands Finn’s shoulders – prepared to pull him away if she needed to. An ordinary person might hear screaming next door and decide to call the authorities – but not Finn. Her best friend was compassionate to a fault and he _understood_ people. Sometimes, sirens and flashing lights caused more irritation than calm.

The door swung open.

Rey leaned up on her tiptoes to peer over Finn’s shoulder into the apartment, past the man who answered the door.

The world comes to a screeching halt.

Her eyes lock to the hulking, imposing figure with dark, sweat-matted hair and a flushed face. There’s a spot of blood that’s clotting at his temple. One large hand is pressed flat against the dry wall and he’s cradling someone’s head to his chest. He looked – in a word – _destroyed_. There is nothing but raw pain visible on his features.

Kylo Ren, impressive, dangerous, the man who played pool with her just a few hours ago looked like he was one strong gust of wind away from crumbling completely.

“She’s hurt.” Owen said, his eyes are filled with tears, “Please don’t call anyone. We can handle this.”

Something shifted in Finn. Rey can feel it under her palms.

There’s a calmness to his voice when he speaks, “I used to be a combat medic. I’m still certified. Can I help?”

Wordlessly, they’re let into the apartment and Rey is stunned for the second time as her eyes drink in the scene. There’s a woman with blonde, short hair on the floor of the kitchen, streaks and faint trails of blood surrounding her as her eyes stare – unseeing - upward at the ceiling. The man – Baldur – she recognized from the bar is holding a blood-soaked rag to her neck. His other bloodied hand is clutching hers.

When she spoke, Rey jumped in alarm, “Fucking piece of **SHIT**. I’m gonna kill him.” Her voice is hoarse, and it takes considerable effort for her to bite the words out. They are all venom. They hold a promise.

“Stop talkin’, little sunshine.” Baldur said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need your strength.”

Her eyes snapped over to him, “I’m going to _kill_ him.”

Rey is vaguely aware that others are speaking around her. That Finn is giving directions. That Poe is helping, too. But Rey is rooted to the spot. It takes considerable effort for her to remember to breathe. Her eyes are locked on the white linoleum smeared with crimson.

Rose – she thinks – might pull her backwards a little to make room as they start moving, placing towels down, and buckets of water and Finn is snapping gloves onto his hands. Baldur kept talking, encouraging little words, his eyes hardly straying from the woman in front of him. He called her ‘sister’ once or twice but, Rey doesn’t know what to do with that information.

“Rey.” His voice, somber and deep and twisting her in ways she doesn’t understand, that’s what breaks her from her trance.

“Kylo.” Rey’s eyes lift to finally meet his, “What happened?” There is so much sorrow in his eyes, so much agony, that Rey can barely stomach it.

He swallowed, turned his head to look at the woman on the ground, “I don’t…want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” She can’t encourage her voice past a whisper. Everything feels too _loud_ around her.

“Freya,” Kylo said, setting his jaw, and Rey can see her lift her head slightly to raise both eyebrows at him. Then, he said something in a language that Rey _doesn’t_ know. He rolled the _‘r’_ and Rey tried – in that moment – to commit the word to memory so she could try to look it up later.

The slow smile that spread out across Freya’s face made her believe it was…an endearment of some kind. A strange flash of jealousy squirmed in her stomach.

And then – for the _third_ time in the past five minutes – Rey is stunned as Kylo’s large hand enveloped hers and squeezed.

* * *

Kylo clamped down on his anger upon seeing the traitor – _Finn_ – helping Freya. Yet, he would take a traitor’s help over a risky trip to the hospital. They had almost made it out of the fighting pit when someone had _lunged_ at Freya with a switchblade. She crumbled to the ground, clutching her neck, as blood seeped out in bright crimson between the gaps of her fingers.

Sigyn grappled the weapon away and without a moment of hesitation – she jammed it into the man’s eye. It was only a second later when Baldur joined them, his left-eye swollen shut, and he lifted Freya into his arms.

There had always been a no-weapons policy. The bouncer at the door made sure of that. Which meant a few possible scenarios. Freya believed that Snoke bribed someone to get into the fighting pit and take her out. It wasn’t an _impossible_ theory. Kylo had trouble believing that Snoke would rid himself of Freya in such a ‘ _hands-free’_ manner. Kylo would bet money that Hux was involved in this. What better way to ensure his place beside Snoke by taking out his favorites? According to Snoke’s methods - the fighting pit was meant to be a punishment. Not an execution.

He squeezed Rey’s hand again when Freya winced and then began cursing Snoke – _again_. Her colorful choice of words switching between Basic and slipping into her own secret language. Baldur moved and used his extraordinary strength to keep Freya pinned to the ground as gently as possible.

Rey. That’s _another_ curiosity. What are the odds that Freya’s boyfriend, Owen, lived right next door from Finn? What are the odds that Rey would be there? Kylo didn’t think he’d see her again unless she happened to bump into him at Starkiller.

“Kylo?” Freya kept her gaze on the ceiling, likely focusing on keeping her body still for Finn. “Where’s Njord?” Her words slur slightly and Kylo feared she might lose consciousness. 

There are too many strangers to give her a straight answer. He opted for the most honest one.

“Home.” Kylo replied.

Freya winced again, her knuckles going bone white against Sigyn’s hand, as the stitch pulled at her skin and a trickle of blood drew down her pale neck. Finn muttered a soft apology. Her eyes drift shut.

“She’s lost a lot of blood.” Finn muttered, to Baldur and Sigyn, “It’s amazing that she’s still lucid.”

Sigyn made a soft, whimpering sound.

Freya’s eyes reopened and swiveled to the side, looking up at Sigyn who was kneeling beside her. “Are you crying?”

“ _No_.” Sigyn sniffled, an obvious tear dripping down her nose.

“Oh good, here I was thinking you were going to – ow, _fuck_ ” She hissed, “– ruin your eyeliner for me.”

No one in the room moved. Everything was narrowed into this moment. His hand clasped to Rey’s – her palm sweaty, but he didn’t care – the illuminating glow of the overhead lights in the kitchen shining down on the glossy white linoleum caked with drying blood, the shallow breathing of Freya and the steady rise and fall of her chest, the quiet whimpers of Sigyn, the occasional encouragement from Baldur, reminding Freya how strong and fierce she was, and Finn’s head bowed over her.

“Okay.” Finn breathed out, dressing the wound with gauze, “It’s done.”

The entire room seemed to exhale at once.

“She’ll need take it easy. Maybe see a _real_ doctor to be safe.” Finn’s eyes meet Kylo’s and he gave a little nod.

“Someone take me to the couch.” Freya grumbled.

Finn leaned back, sagging his shoulder’s as Poe’s arm came around him in a soft, quiet embrace.

Kylo dropped Rey’s hand and stalked over – to the window – and out onto the fire escape. He needed _out_ of that room before he punched another hole in the wall. The air was cool against his flushed skin. He curled his fists around the iron and bowed his head forward, staring down at the empty street below.

He almost _lost_ her.

Hot pinpricks of tears pressed behind his eyelids. Freya. His _sister_ – not by blood, but by something stronger. He almost fucking _lost_ her. Was there anything he could’ve done to prevent it? He had felt something…before…it happened. That awareness. He had been too slow, though. He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t strong enough! He was supposed to look after her! How could he keep her safe, how could he keep ANY of them safe, when he was such a pathetic excuse for a leader? For a friend?

Kylo growled, picking up a potted plant that was on the fire scape and chucked it – full strength – into the neighboring building’s brick wall. The ceramic shattered with a satisfying noise and dirt exploded outward. He exhaled sharply though his nose as the white-hot pain curdled in his veins. He needed to break something else.

The window opened.

Rey’s head poked out, loose strands of brown hair curling around her face in the breeze, “Hey – they’re ordering a pizza. You want anything special?”

“No.”

Rey huffed and retreated. He expected her to slam the window on him. But, instead, he was given the sight of her long leg sticking out and then her body, folding forward, to climb out onto the fire escape with him. She slid the widow shut and slipped next to him.

“That was…” Rey stared out into the cityscape, her face pinching as she sought to find the words, “Scary.”

Kylo snorted, “That’s the motto of my life.”

Rey gave him a look that he cannot decipher.

They fall into silence next to one another. It’s not awkward. It’s just…quiet. She’s just _there_. Kylo licked his lips, staring down at his hands clutching the railing with his bruised knuckles, and at Rey’s hands – close to his. Rey was an anchor in that kitchen. She was _his_ anchor. She accepted that he didn’t want to talk about it and she just stood beside him through the anguish of it all. She could have called the authorities. She could have run. She could have shaken off his hand. She could have tried to push him for answers – for _any_ answers.

She didn’t though. She just stood beside him. 

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“Huh?!”

Their gazes meet and Kylo swallowed. It’s easier to thank her than to thank Finn.

“Thank you for your help.”

A flush crept across her cheeks and she quickly shook her head, “I didn’t _do_ anything.”

“No, Rey, you don’t understand.” He stretched out his little finger, letting it graze the top of her hand, back and forth in a small caress. Her eyes dart to the movement and then snap back up to him, her lips parted, a rather _cute_ furrow between her brows. “You helped me, Rey.”

“Oh.” As understanding blossoms, her cheeks deepen in color and she hurriedly looked away. “Uh – no problem.”

He smirked, taking in her appearance in full for the first time and his heart stopped in his throat.

“Is that my fucking jacket?”

Rey is startled – as if she had forgotten she was wearing it – which isn’t an outrageous thing to guess.

“Oh, yeah, sorry! Um – you left it and I—” Her hands lift to the zipper but Kylo reached out and stopped her. His hands fold over hers and she stared up at him.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to say the next words. Maybe it’s because he wants an excuse t to see her again. Maybe because he _likes_ how she looks wearing it. Maybe it’s because it’s a little cool outside and he wants her to stay warm.

Maybe his reasoning is a mixture of all three - “Hold onto it for me.”

He watched as her throat moved as she swallowed.

“Uh – you sure?”

His lips quirked, “Yes.” Then, because he can’t help himself, he added, “You look good in it.”

Rey ducked her chin and pulled her hands away from his. She turned back to face the city and Kylo contented himself with gazing at her profile for a few long moments before someone tapped on the window and encouraged them to come back inside.

* * *

Rey fell asleep wearing Kylo’s jacket. She hadn’t _meant_ to. Rose gave her a ride home and it was close to three-am and she just collapsed into her bed with it snuggled around her body. Her mind replayed the moment on the fire escape again and again. Her dreams replayed it, too, but with a _bit_ more creativity.

The way he touched the back of her hand. The briefest, most gentle of touches. As if he wasn’t sure if he _could_ touch her.

The way he thanked her. What did that mean? How did _she_ help _him_?

The curve of his plush lips when he almost smiled. The molten heat of his eyes when he told her that she looked good wearing his jacket. It had sent a thrill of warmth straight to her core.

Yet, Rey was still left with more questions than answers. She scrubbed a hand over her face. Annoying.

Her phone began to ring and Rey, a little confused, picked it up without looking at the caller-ID, “Hullo?”

“Hey, kid.” _Han_.

“Sorry for the short notice, but Leia was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?”

Rey perked up, “Sure.”

The prospect of a good meal, hanging out with Chewie, _and_ getting to find some answers to her questions? It was as if the Universe had handed over her desires on a silver platter.

“Great!” She can hear Han’s smile through the receiver, “Me and Chewie will pick you up at seven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hopefully the pacing is OK on this one? One again, writing fight-stuff is DIFFICULT.
> 
> Also, Chap 7 will be posted in a few minutes. It's actually a chapter that I had a BURNING need to write about and needed to get it out of my system. 
> 
> :) Please feel free to drop a kudos, drop a comment, let me know if you're enjoying the ride ( i am ) lol


	7. the day ben solo died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To understand - we must go back.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck, the warm afternoon sun felt like palm against the middle of his back. The chickens clucked and pecked at the dirt under his muddied boots as he tossed their grain in wide arcs. His uncle’s farm was unlike any place on Earth. Luke Skywalkers’ farm spanned acres upon acres of rolling green hills. There was an apple orchard, a pasture for the cows, about a dozen chickens, and a small garden near the large home where they all cohabited.

It was a far cry from the scorching heat of his deployment. It was nothing like the viper’s nest of Alderaan where his mother worked.

But they had made a home here. Or something close to it. Luke had offered him a place to stay when he had no where else to go and Ben discovered that his uncle had a habit of doing _that_. He took in the rejects of society and gave them time to recover. It wasn’t in any official capacity. It wasn’t like his uncle was running a foster home. But Ben preferred it that way. He liked being off the grid. Everyone else did too.

A loud, girlish shriek came from his left and Ben’s gaze tracked it. He saw the two – inseparable as they were – Freya and Freyr. A thin, cool stream of water shot out from the hose and Freya rolled into the grass to avoid the onslaught. The mist reflected off the sunlight and a faint rainbow shimmered in the air. She scrambled through the grass on her belly, dirt covering her knees, with her blonde hair wild and frizzed around her face.

“Fiend! Monster!” She aimed low and chucked a rock at her brother.

“Cut it, you two!” A booming voice rang out, louder than the tractor he was sitting on top of. Baldur was half mountain, half man. He was built for this life and maybe even parenthood, Ben mused, if you considered how often he looked after the younger ones, “You’re supposed to be up in the orchards!”

Although, could twenty really be considered _young_?

Ben caught himself smiling as he watched his friends rile one another up. The twins continuing their game of tag with the hose and Baldur scolding them with a grin on his face.

“I swear, you’d think they were kids.” Njord said at his side, hands in his pockets as they watched the scene unfold.

“They practically _are_.” Ben answered gruffly, before tossing another handful of chicken fee down, “Neither of them can even drink yet.”

“Hasn’t stopped them.” He gave Ben a conspiratorial glance with laughter in his voice. A memory of the group crowded into the living room during the wintertime, the twins – pale as they were – had gone red in the face from drinking ‘ _regular’_ eggnog. Luke had asked everyone in turn who might’ve spiked it. No one fessed up and no one ratted the other one out.

From that day on, their bonds were forged. 

“Hey!” Njord’s voice joined the chaos of the others, “Sigyn said she’d make us a pie, but we can’t do that if we don’t have any fucking _apples_ so let’s go!”

Freyr stomped his boot onto the hose, the flow of water stopped, “Well, someone could’ve told us that in the first place.” He lifted his boot and attempted to spray water at Baldur. Then, without ceremony or grace, bolted for the hills.

Freya was hot on his heels, “Come with us, Ben!”

Njord took the bag of grain from Ben’s hand, “Go on. You’re the tall one.”

* * *

Ben lifted his calloused hand over head and plucked an apple down from a higher branch than either the twins could reach. The breeze ruffled the leaves overhead and...

Ben Solo felt at peace.

Freyr looked up at him from his comfortable spot at the tree trunk. His hair golden in the fractured sunlight that peaked through the leaves.

“You’ve got that look, old man.” His teeth flashed in a wide grin that crinkled the corners of his clear, blue eyes. A soft shadow caressed the awkward angle of Freyr’s nose. An old injury that didn’t heal or wasn’t allowed to. It didn't eclipse his natural, boyish charm or appearance. 

“What look?” Ben turned his head to keep an eye on Freya who had journeyed a few paces ahead with the basket in her hand. Her hair billowing out around her face as she twirled to set the basket down onto the grass.

Freyr shrugged, “Do you think you’ll stay here?”

It was a sudden change in topic, but that was Freyr. He never lingered. Ben wondered how that must feel…to never feel burdened by _anything_ : not even a topic of conversation.

“No.” Ben answered with a slight, subtle shake to his head, “But, I know I can’t go back, either.”

The words: ‘ _to my family’_ were unspoken yet spoken in the warm, fragrant air.

“That makes two of us.” Something hardened in Freyr’s expression. It was brief, but Ben saw it. More importantly – Ben recognized it. Rage. The sudden idea that Freyr, the man who always had a lingering smile on his face, could feel something as potent and violate as rage took Ben by surprise.

It must’ve shown on his face because Freyr laughed.

“Well, let’s make a deal then, okay?” He offered Ben his hand, “Wherever you wind up going, take Freya and me with you.”

Ben furrowed his brow. He wracked his brain to discover Freyr’s motive. What benefit could he have to sticking around him? Ben Solo? The disgraced son of Leia Organa-Solo, adored senator, public and political figure, a hero and revolutionary in the eyes of the people. The man who was honorably discharged from his service to the country. Even though he should’ve perished with the rest of his unit…

“Or _don’t_.” Freyr gave a languid shrug of his shoulders, “God, you really gotta make everything so serious, huh?”

“Why would you want to stay with me?”

Freyr sighed, “I really have to spell it out? Because we’re _friends_.”

“Guys! Come on!” Freya shouted.

Ben offered his hand and helped pull Freyr to his feet. The two stood in front of each other: Freyr with his easy-smiles and radiant disposition, a man spun by gold and light, and Ben, guarded and quiet, a man cut from the night sky.

He deliberately shook Freyr’s hand before letting go.

And Freyr’s smile could’ve blotted out the sun.

* * *

“He’s not my dad, but he’s kind of my dad.” That is how Sigyn described Luke Skywalker to any newcomer.

It never failed to illicit a groan from the group.

She had been with Luke the longest. The reclusive hermit had discovered Sigyn while she was sleeping inside the barn during a rainstorm and – if her account of the tale was true – she had every intention of leaving in the morning, but Luke _begged_ her to stay. It wasn’t long before they both realized that the farm needed more than just two people.

Sigyn cast a wide net, seeking out seasonal workers, and her protectiveness over the farm, over Luke, made her shrewd when it came to who she allowed in. But she and Luke had their bleeding hearts in common. They would take in those who needed more than just a job. They needed a place to stay, or to heal, or to get away from toxic family members or abuse. 

When Ben landed back home after his disgrace overseas, it was Luke who sent him an e-mail, welcoming him to join them at the Skywalker Farm. No pressure, no questions, it was just a place to **be**.

The woman could not help but smile, her eyes magnified by her thick glasses, “Luke, you’ve got yourself quite the band of misfits here.”

Ben returned his gaze to his book.

“As I was saying,” Luke continued with an exasperated look at Sigyn, “Maz will just be staying with us for the weekend.”

“This is why--” Freya began…

“Sigyn’s making pie.” Freyr finished.

Njord stood, large hand offering to take her bag, “I’ll show her to her room, then.”

The group began to disperse. Sigyn bouncing into the kitchen with Baldur close on her heels, Freya and Freyr looked to one another, nodded, and then headed to the next room without another word. That unspoken language of siblings never failed to elicit a strange, almost jealous chill down Ben’s spine. His own childhood had been lonely and not for the first time he wondered what it would’ve been like if he had someone else there with him. If he would’ve been a different person completely. He blinked away the thought and tried to refocus his attention on his book.

His uncles voice was quiet in the now-empty living room, “Ben.”

Ben used one long finger to mark his page, wordlessly raising an eyebrow for Luke to finish his thought.

“Maz was telling me on the way here that she’s got a few job prospects in the city.” He said, “So, if that’s something you want to do, I’d take advantage of speaking with her while she’s here.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Luke nodded. Ben tried to return to his book but found that anger had coiled up inside his stomach and would not let him rest. Was his uncle eager to be rid of him? Ben knew that he and Leia kept in contact. Maybe this was just a ploy to try and get him to come back. As if he could _ever_ face her. His heart twisted painfully. No. There was no going back. He said that just this afternoon to Freyr and he _meant_ it.

He wasn’t going to live out the rest of his days here, but he wasn’t ready to go back to Coruscant either.

It was the second time that day that someone brought up _leaving_.

Ben tried not to let that little detail grate at him – but it did. All throughout dinner, he couldn’t stop glancing at the group in between bites of apple pie and listening to Freyr’s voice impressions (his Luke one was scarily accurate).

Sigyn braided her red hair into a crown on her atop head, dimples deepening as she smiled wide with her hands waving as she described a large dog she saw while visiting the market with Luke that morning. Freyr was to her left, his chin in his hand, and his freckled, misshapen nose scrunched as he batted Sigyn’s hand away from his face. Fondness was etched across his features. 

Njord was deeply engrossed in a technical conversation with Maz. Ben caught the words ‘processor’ and ‘overclocking’, but he tuned out the rest. Computers were a part of his past. Ben chose not to revisit it. Njords’ large glasses reflected the light as he tilted his head into his shoulder to hold back his laughter.

Baldur scooped another serving of ice cream onto his plate, his elbows jostling into Freya, and Ben caught her fleeting smile. She admonished him for his sugar intake and tried to rope Sigyn into the conversation – trusting the other woman would have her back.

Sigyn, of course, agreed and began listing the reasons an ‘ _all-green_ ’ diet would be beneficial. The conversation took another turn with the help of Freyr. The table erupted in laughter. Ben took the moment to look at Luke. He sat with his elbows on the table, his hands folded in front of him, and his eyes were tracking everyone’s face – just as Ben’s had been. Their eyes met and Ben saw (not for the first time) the strike of similarity between his uncle and his mother. Although, Luke’s eyes always held a note of mirth. Luke gave him a small smirk, nodded subtly, and then spoke up to join the conversation.

When the evening finally ended, Ben folded his arms underneath his pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

“Hey Njord?”

“Hrmph?”

Ben felt the question his tongue. It felt heavy. “What are you going to do after this?”

The other bed creaked as Njord rolled over. The twin sized mattresses were too small for them, but they put up with it. It’s not like they hadn’t endured worse.

“Honestly? I was planning on all of us staying together.” Njord cleared his throat, “The six of us make a good team.”

The fan in the corner of the room clicked repeatedly as it rotated in the other direction.

“What about you?”

Ben shut his eyes.

“We make a good team.”

* * *

There were some nights where he couldn’t sleep, and he was never the only one.

Sometimes, Ben would find Sigyn in the kitchen making tea. She’d make him a cup and she’d sit on the cold kitchen floor (“It keeps me awake”, she once said). She’d clip coupons or paint her toenails. Ben would sit with her and listen. He thinks that if he ever wanted a sister, he’d want them to be like Sigyn.

Or he’d find Njord in the living room with his laptop, his face awash in blue light. The only sound would be the furious clacking of his keyboard as he implanted some string of codes. Ben would give him privacy and read nearby. Neither of them would speak.

Or Baldur would be sitting at the dining room table playing cards. Upon seeing Ben, he would always gesture to the chair and ask for a game. It took a few months, but soon, Baldur was teaching Ben every trick he knew, including the flashy ones. Occasionally, he’d share pieces of his old life.

“I used to believe in luck.” Baldur said, looking at the dice tattooed on his forearm, his eyes clouding for a moment before it vanished. “I don’t anymore.”

Ben set down his cards, revealing a flush, “What do you believe in?”

Baldur’s shoulders raised in a heavy shrug, “That the odds are often stacked against you.” He smiled, “So, might as well cheat.” And he lifted a card from his sleeve with a dramatic flourish.

On rare nights, he’d find Luke on the front porch, and sometimes they’d talk.

Tonight, was one of those rare nights. Ben pulled his sweater on over his head and no sooner had his hand touched the doorknob that he heard is uncle’s voice.

_“I know that, Leia.”_

Ben’s body froze.

“ _They’re kids, but they need help.” Luke paused, then emphasized, “ **He** needs help.”_

He swallowed and his hand tightened around the doorknob.

It’s him. They were talking about him. Shame and anger flooded his senses. Of course, Ben didn’t talk to Maz so now Luke was running to his mother, probably to complain that Ben had overused his welcome. Weren’t they doing a good job? Wasn’t the farm running smoothly? He never bowed away from his responsibilities. No one did. They all worked together. They were a team.

They were a _family_.

Yes, he came back from his deployment a little fucked in the head – but who _didn’t_ have demons? It wasn’t like Luke was perfect.

Ben had lost so much overseas. Now, he would lose this too. Of course. Of _fucking_ course. A cold sweat began to pull at the center of his spine and Ben clenched his eyes shut.

_“It’s too late - I’ve already called them and they’re on their way. They said it will be a peaceful arrest, assuming he complies, and I am sure he will.”_

His eyes snapped open. Arrest?!

_“I can’t keep wanted criminals here, Leia.” Luke sounded distraught, his footsteps padding across the wood – back and forth, back, and forth. “It’s dangerous. No – I don’t – well – he could be dangerous, too, but I don’t think so. I think he’s a good kid. He loves his sister…and this is the best way to get him some help.”_

Ben turned and took the stairs in long, quick strides.

“Njord, get up.” He grabbed his shoulder, “Now. We have to go.”

Fear flashed across Njord’s face for a second and then he just… _nodded_. Ben’s heart clenched. What had he ever done to earn their loyalty? Look what happened to the last men who were loyal and trusted him. He saw explosions behind his eyelids. Ben pushed the memory down.

Ben turned out the room and headed down the hall, his knuckles rapped on the door. Freya and Sigyn peered at him with sleepy eyes.

“Ben?” Sigyn hid a yawn behind her fist, “What’s up?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Wh-what? Why?”

Suddenly, Freyr’s head appeared over his sister’s shoulder. He looked at Ben, read his expression, and nodded.

“’cause Ben says we are.” Freyr’s tone was unlike any Ben had heard. And it caused his sister to turn and look at him with confusion. Ben did not stay to listen to them try and figure it out. He was already across the hall and knocking on Baldur’s door.

The six of them met in the back near the barn covered in shadow. The speed and efficiency in which they gathered what was most important into backpacks and got dressed showed Ben how their life had been _before_ Skywalkers'.

And now he was taking them away from it.

No. Ben steeled his resolve. Luke betrayed their trust.

Sigyn wrung her hands together, “Someone tell me what the hell is going on!”

“Luke called the police.” Ben scowled, “On Freyr. He said that he could be dangerous and that they were coming tonight.”

“Holy shit.” Njord was the first to speak up, casting a meaningful sidelong glance at Freyr.

“Ah.” Freyr nodded as if he expected this, “It was only a matter of time.” He licked his lips, then rushed to explain, “A few weeks ago, Njord helped me track down my parents—”

Freya’s breath hitched.

“They were rotten.” He spat, turning away from the group, “When we turned eighteen, you know, we ran, and it wasn’t long before Sigyn found us…but it always bothered me that they were just _out_ _there_. After everything they did. I tried to forget.” Ben couldn’t see his expression, but he could hear the anger in his voice.

“I borrowed Baldur’s truck, I took a hunting knife from the shed, and I went to see them.”

“You _what_?!” The tears streaming down Freya’s round cheeks glistened in the moonlight.

“We fought. I’m bigger than dad now, Freya, and I’m much stronger than him, too.” His shoulder shook, “It all happened so fast. I only meant to threaten them. Scare them...”

“You don’t need to tell us anything else.” Baldur interjected, his hand the size of a bear’s paw coming to rest on Freyr’s slim shoulder. The younger man shrugged it off.

“I killed them.”

The words dropped between them and rippled outward.

“And then I – I just – I _fucking_ ran. I just ran back home, and I didn’t look back.” Freyr did turn around then and his eyes sought out the others. They were angry and full of hurt.

“Hey—” Sigyn grabbed Njord’s sleeve, pointing, and everyone looked to see a pair of headlights were approaching the farm. Followed by another. Then another. Freyr snorted and made a passing comment about ‘ _overkill’_.

Sigyn found her voice, “You should talk to Luke, he’d understand.” She clutched to Njord’s wrist, “He would. We could figure this out. It was self-defense! Not murder.”

Freyr shrugged, “It hardly matters. I fled. I’m guilty. I got all of you involved...” He paused, “I’m sorry.”

The sound of car doors opening and closing rang out in the quiet night.

It seemed even the wildlife had gone silent in trepidation.

He took a step forward and embraced Freya, “ _Ástvinur_ , _Ekki líta til baka_.” 

Then, he turned to Ben, his smile reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners, “She’s your sister, too. Look after her for me.”

Freyr took a step back, addressing the group, “Now go, before it’s too late.”

Ben’s mind was turning. He could not see why it seemed so impossible that Freyr could not come with them. Yes, it was dangerous. Yes, the police force would likely catch up with them. But they could try to get to Hoth. There were plenty of mountains and woods. They were resourceful. They could figure it out.

 _Family, family, family_. The word pounded in his skull.

Freyr removed something from his jacket and began running towards the house. Ben, without a second thought, was hot on his heels. The porch light turned on.

Then, in a voice that was Luke’s but was also **_not_** Luke’s rang out, “He’s got a weapon!”

Time slowed down. Ben, years of training ingrained into his body, flung himself down to the damp grass and covered his arms over his head. The bullets screamed through the air and pinged off the metal as Freyr ducked behind Baldur’s truck.

“No!” Luke’s voice came from the porch, barely audible over the fire, “No!”

Ben dared to glance upward, and he saw Freyr circle around the trunk, his whole-body cast in shadow as the harsh beam of headlights created a spotlight and he pointed his arm at the police. His body convulsed as it was hit. The scream that followed and tore through the air somewhere behind him was pure wild, agony.

Ben scrambled to his knees. He had to reach him. He had to stop the bleeding. He had to make this right. He had to **save** him. He had to-He had to-He had to---

A thick arm wrapped around his waist and hauled him backwards and onto his feet, “Solo. Don’t.”

He whipped his head around and saw his friends. His _friends_. Baldur did not loosen his grip but opted to hold onto his arm and bodily yank him back into the shadows. To safety. Freya was savage in Njord’s arms. She clawed at him, screaming in Basic and the unknown language that she and her brother spoke, her legs kicking outward.

Ben does not remember leading them through the woods.

He does not remember eating, or finding a motel, or getting a car.

He does not remember if he slept or not.

He can only remember Freya’s tormented face lit up by blue and red flashes.

He can only remember the silhouette of Freyr’s body on the dirt-paved driveway.

* * *

That was the night the Knights of Ren were born.

The night Ben Solo stripped away the past. Killed it. As unceremoniously and savage as the death of Freyr.

He gave himself a new name.

And vowed to protect his new family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter FEELS a lot longer than it actually is, I think. I love this chapter a lot and I am a little nervous about it, honestly, because I was going to introduce a character - try to make him fleshed out/with feeling - and show you so much of the Knights of Ren before they became the Knights of Ren without it being a super-duper long exposition. 
> 
> I wanted this chapter to feel...light. That was my goal. At least, the first half, anyway. I hope I achieved that. Oh and the language that Freya and her brother speak is Icelandic. I took some creative liberties with that one - since I am not from Iceland - but we will discover what he said to her in later chapters, I promise :)
> 
> Slight edit: I added that moodboard with my casting choice for my Knights of Ren :)   
> Anyway--- please let me know what you think on this one lol


	8. find the answers you seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey goes to Han and Leia's for dinner. Some of her questions get answered.

Rey hopped down from the bus’s final step and set off to Han and Leia’s house. Han had offered to pick her up, but Rey wanted the time to think. She could only achieve that if she was on her own. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her light gray jacket. She made the deliberate choice to keep Kylo’s jacket at home. Even if its warm, spicy scent had lulled her into a sense of comfort and security throughout the prior evening.

Everything _shifted_ after Finn helped Freya. It wasn’t like the members of the First Order were hugging her friends or anything, but Rey could tell the dynamic had changed. Sigyn and Rose – they had that same, bubbly attitude that prevented conversations from becoming awkward or hostile. Freya dipped in and out of consciousness – but she managed to sit up and eat a little pizza with them. Finn, Poe, and Baldur entered into a strange camaraderie after discovering they were at the same concert for the rock band “ _Rebel, Rebel_ ” two weekends ago.

Every few seconds, Rey would feel the heat of Kylo’s gaze on her, and she’d lift her eyes to meet his and he’d quickly look away. As if he was embarrassed. She couldn’t ignore the thrill that ignited her gut at the idea that Kylo Ren – infamous member of a biker gang with a mysterious past – was staring at her. It wasn’t like she was much to look at.

Rey bit her lower lip.

At least tonight there was hope for answers.

Han and Leia lived in a charming little brownstone, the front door painted blue, with flowerpots nesting underneath the lower-floor windows. She bounded up the concrete steps and rapped her knuckles against the door. She could hear loud barking followed by a gruff, older man saying, _‘knock it off, you old mutt!’_

“Hey!” Han’s grizzled face broke out into a grin as the door flew open.

“Hi!” Rey stepped forward into Han’s embrace and she squeezed tightly. Han was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a dad.

Her first foster father had been a distant workaholic. She was with that family the longest – a full year. Yet she sometimes felt like she’d be better off with no family. When Rey got in trouble one-too-many times at school, it wasn’t a surprise when she was put back into the system. Her second foster father was a _creep_. Thankfully, after less than six months with that family, the parents started their divorce and the court ruled that the children under their care be removed. By the time Rey was seventeen, she had endured four foster families.

Each one taught her the same lesson as before: getting attached only leads to disappointment.

Finn, Poe, and Rose were the only exceptions to that rule.

Now, as Han grasped her shoulder and guided her inside, _maybe_ Han and Leia would be another exception.

Chewie pressed his wet nose against her leg, “Hey, buddy.” Rey smiled, ruffling his fur.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice. Leia’s been bugging me to meet you.” Han said with a gentle roll of his eyes.

“I heard that!” Leia called from the kitchen.

Rey followed him into the adjoining room where Leia was bent over a large steaming pot. She looked up at Rey, offered her a closed-lip smile with warm brown eyes and Rey’s heart stopped. Several pieces clicked at once.

 _My inheritance_ – Kylo had said with a voice like dark wine.

 _Son of a Senator –_ Finn had said, his eyes downcast, - _changed his name._

She glanced at Han, the second strike of resemblance hitting her as she looked at his profile as he spoke to his wife. Kylo Ren was related to him? To her boss – who showed her nothing but kindness and generosity? She tried to line that up with what she knew about Kylo so far.

Except trying to get a grasp on Kylo was like trying to catch smoke with her hands.

She recalled the devasted look in his eyes when she entered Owen’s apartment. The sneer on his lips when she first saw him at the junkyard. The pain in his expression when she crawled out onto the fire escape. The teasing, flirtatious glance down to her mouth at the bar. The absolute ruthlessness in his decision to _murder_ the people who hurt her. Finn reminding her that he’s dangerous. The way Freya looked at him as if he spun gold. The large, encompassing warmth of his hands as he held her own.

“Hope you’re hungry!” Leia said, breaking Rey from her reprieve, “Not _you_ , Chewie.” She smiled fondly at the dog who stared up at her with his tail wagging and wide, hopeful eyes.

“Very much.” The prospect of Leia’s home cooking helped only a little to shake off the onslaught of questions that rest on her tongue. Rey can’t just blurt out ‘ _Hey, are you related to a man named Kylo Ren? Tall, brooding bloke associated with a biker gang?’_

They sit together at the circular dining table with Chewie lying under their feet, chewing a toy bone, and for the following minutes – Rey is distracted by the aromatic smells that waft from the plates of food laid out before her. Leia served her spoonful of a rich, creamy soup with buns still warm from the oven and a fresh, crisp salad with sliced fruit and nuts.

“Do you eat fish, Rey?” Leia asked, smearing butter onto her roll.

Rey nodded. Her mouth too full to risk speaking.

“Good. That’s the main course. I figured we could start light.” She smiled, her eyes twinkling, “Allow us a chance to get to know each other. Han speaks highly of you.”

Han just grumbled into his soup, “Let the kid eat, will you?”

“We can talk _and_ eat, Han.” She pursed her lips. “Han told me you have a pet project at the junkyard?”

Rey brightened, “I do! Han said if I can get the car running then she’s mine.”

“What else do you like to do?”

She chewed around the bite of bread, “Uh...” Her brow furrowed, “Well, me and my friends like to have game nights. If I’m not at the shop, I’m with them.”

“And are you in school?”

Rey felt a flush begin at the back of her neck. She was suddenly hyper aware that she was in the home of an accomplished, successful family. She might not follow politics, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t tell that Leia was a different class than she was. The house, the plates they were eating off of, the jewelry on Leia’s fingers, the polished and refined way that she spoke and acted. Han might be more salt-of-the-earth like she was…but he had his own business that he built from scratch. And before _that_ , he told Rey that he worked as a public defender. It was how he and his wife met.

“No.”

“Ah.” Leia took a sip of her water, “Well, that’s okay. You’re still young.”

“ _Leia_.” There’s a note of exasperation in Han’s tone.

“What! I’m just saying that she’s young and has her whole life ahead of her. Whatever she wants to do. Right, Rey?”

Again, mouthful of food, Rey can only nod.

The conversation, thankfully, takes a turn away from her life as Han brings up this charity marathon that Leia organizes. The woman talks with her hands and occasionally jabs her fork in the air while making a powerful point in her description of the event, it’s origins, and some of the other events that have come and gone throughout the years.

Leia, Rey learns quickly, is quite the philanthropist.

By the time the fish is done and served, she and Han share stories of their time as lawyers and in law school and stories about how they met.

In turn, Rey offered her own pieces of her life. Not _too_ much. She doesn’t miss the flash of pity Leia gives her when she mentions being a foster kid. She explained how she became friend with Finn in middle school, then were pen pals throughout high school, and once she was 18, she tracked him down and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Her apartment with it’s unreliable landlord.

“How come you don’t live with Finn?” Leia asked, her brow furrowing, “It sounds like you two are great friends.”

“We are.” Rey helped herself to a second serving, “It’s just – he lives with his boyfriend. So.”

“Ah.” Leia nodded, “Two’s company, three’s a crowd. I get it. Remember when Luke and Mara got together?” She looked over to her husband, “You moved out so quickly.”

Han chuckled.

“Luke?”

“My brother.” Leia said with a wistful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s a story for another time, though.”

It was now or never, Rey supposed, since the topic of family was on the table.

“I – uh – “She swallowed, “I noticed the photos on your fridge. Are they of your brother?” There were only a few. But they all held the same, dark-haired boy with moles dotting his pale face and his ears sticking out. Rey _knew_ they weren’t of Luke. She just needed some kind of opening.

Leia’s smile slipped from her face, “That’s Ben.”

“Anyone want coffee?” Han asked, standing up abruptly and collecting his empty plate and his wife’s. Rey looked down and bit her lip.

 _Ben_.

She tried to compare the three versions that she knew: Ben – crooked teeth, face round with youth, and ears that stuck out a little. Ben – the picture Finn showed her, standing far away from the combat unit, looking intense and uncomfortable. Kylo Ren – the dangerous man who she really _should_ avoid.

“While Han cleans up and fixes up the coffee let me give you a little tour.” Leia offered and Rey nodded, collecting her plate, and following her out from the dining room.

* * *

The house is dotted with photographs. Rey tried not to linger on them (but some, she cannot help). There’s Ben (no more than six, she guessed) helping his mother to light a menorah. There’s Ben – perhaps ten – sitting in the driver seat of a classic Mustang. There’s a photo of Leia shaking hands with President Holdo. Chewie as a puppy. A wedding photo that makes Rey’s chest hurt.

Leia and Han look like they _belong_ to one another.

She’s never felt that. She can’t help but feel little envy now.

“This is my home office.” Leia said, opening the door to the modern, sleek room. “Doesn’t get much use, but it’s always nice to have.”

Rey sees the photograph of Ben – wearing a blue graduation gown and cap – and the words spring out of her mouth, “I met your son.”

Leia held her gaze for a beat.

“How is he?”

Rey frowned. That wasn’t the question she was expecting. Then again, it didn’t appear like Ben was close to his family. There were no _recent_ photos. His mother was still a senator. Maybe it was impossible for him to have a relationship to them as long as he was in the First Order. Maybe they didn’t allow people to have contact with their families. Rey really didn’t know.

“I don’t know. I – we didn’t talk much.” Wait, that sounded weird. “I mean – he’s fine. He’s…kinda grumpy sometimes. Hard to read.”

Leia narrowed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. She placed her hand on the doorframe of the office and looked forlornly into the space. As if it were to blame for the weariness upon her bones.

“When Ben came back to the States after his deployment. He was troubled. Me and Han didn’t know how to cope.” Leia said quietly, “We should have taken him in after his falling-out with Luke. But I was in the middle of a re-election and we just couldn’t handle the PR nightmare that it would’ve been.” Leia swallowed and blinked back the mist in her eyes, “It is my greatest shame that I wasn’t there for him when I should have been.”

She took in a slow breath, “I’m sorry, Rey. I shouldn’t burden you with this.”

“No.” Rey reached out a tentative hand and touched Leia’s arm, “It’s okay. I – I brought it up. When I met him, he mentioned that Han’s shop was his inheritance, and I was just looking for answers.”

Leia managed a soft chuckle, “Yes. Han always intended to leave the shop to him. Cars were something he and Ben used to bond over.” She looked back out to her office, “I still believe there’s good in him. Maybe it’s just my foolish love as his mother but I kept his bedroom the same. It’ll always be there for him.”

“I don’t think that’s foolish at all.” Rey said. The older woman offered her a smile and then took her hand.

“Come on, let’s go have some dessert.”

* * *

Rey fished the bills from her pocket, her stomach full of Leia’s cookies (with a few saved in her backpack – Leia wouldn’t let her leave without taking _some_ home) and dropped it into the cab drivers waiting hand.

“You sure this is the place, kid?” He asked, giving a wary glance to the red neon lights and row of motorcycles out front.

“Yup! Thanks!” She slammed the door behind her and gave a cursory glance to the motorcycles out front. She couldn’t tell which was Kylo’s – _Ben’s--_ whatever _._ She’s still riding the high from her visit with Han and Leia. They had been the picture of well-adjusted, supportive, and loving parents. How could Ben turn his back on them? There was more to his story.

She just _knew_ there had to be.

After all, what would push a man to change his name and completely renounce all ties? Leia mentioned a falling out with Luke, but that would explain estrangement from his uncle, not estrangement from his parents. And it was clear they loved him. Especially Leia. If she could just talk to him…

Her stomach fell to the floor.

He wasn’t here.

“Well, if it isn’t the little Rey!” Baldur saw her and motioned her over to the table he was sitting at, with a basket of onion rings and a pint in front of him. It wasn’t Ben, but it was someone he was close to. She’d take the consolation prize.

“Hey, it’s Baldur, right?”

“The one and only.” He grinned a wide smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes. Rey slid into the seat across from him. Baldur was large – but not in the same, muscled way that Ben was. He was stockier, his jean jacket stretching across broad shoulders and decorated with – what appeared to be embroidery? Rey tracked the little flowers that were decorated across the front pockets, the cuffs, and tried to slot that information away. It didn’t fit the stereotype of a murderous, dangerous gang member.

“Help yourself.” He pointed to the onion rings. She normally wouldn’t turn down food, but she was still full. Then, he’s clearly noticed the movement of her gaze because he suddenly adds – “Sigyn made it for me. She’s crafty.”

Rey tried to place the name with the face from the evening prior, “She had blue hair?” She guessed, remembering the woman who had hunched over Freya and wept with small tremors wracking her body.

Baldur guffawed, “Used to. She dyed it purple this morning.”

Despite herself, Rey found a smile on her lips. What an…expressive…bunch. They all seemed so _vibrant_ compared to Ben’s stoicism. Another mystery to unravel. What tied these people to Ben? Was it just loyalty of being in the same gang? Or was it something deeper?

She’d bet money that it was the second.

She _saw_ how Ben reacted when Freya was hurt.

That was stronger than loyalty.

“So, little Rey, you play cards?” Baldur asked, pulling a deck from his pocket.

“Uh?” Rey blinked, “Kind of? I mean…I know go fish.”

That earned her another booming chuckle from Baldur. His eyes shining with mirth as he dealt out the cards, “That’s a classic. But, how about I teach you poker?”

She remembered the night she came here with Rose. How he had laughed as Rose kicked his ass at pool.

“Are you trying to hussle me?”

He looked just a little affronted at her suggestion, “No. I am _not_. I would never take advantage of a beginner.” He laid some cards out, face up, “Pay attention, though. Because next time I see you – it’ll be an honest game with a money pot.”

Rey thought of her unfinished game of pool with Ben.

It was shaping up that this watering hole would be one of her regular spots.

* * *

“This is bullshit.” Njord leaned against the handlebars of his bike, his lips twisted into a scowl as he watches as the cargo is loaded onto a moving truck.

Kylo sighed and for once – he’s not following Njord’s righteous anger, “Keep your voice down.”

“This shit.” Njord hissed, shooting an accusatory glare at the others once more, “--is toxic. Snokes having us move it _knowing_ that it’s killed people. When we joined him, Kylo, we agreed – we had rules!”

He understood Njord’s frustration. He does. It wasn’t that it didn’t bother him. It did. It _does_. But what can he do? Snoke is a few hundred miles away and they’re doing his dirty work. They’re helping to move highly addictive substances across the border – knowing it’s a felony if they get caught and knowing it’s a death sentence for the abusers and unable to do a damn thing about it.

“I lost my mom to this stuff, Ben.” Njord’s voice dipped, his eyes falling to the desert sand.

“I know.” Kylo scrubbed a gloved hand over his face, “The quicker we get it done, the better. I’ll talk to Snoke when we get back.” This whole ordeal was going to take a whole _week_. And he should be focused on it – but he can only think about Rey. He shouldn’t even be _thinking_ about her. She’s no one.

 _Then why’d you have her keep your jacket, dumbass?_ Kylo saw the image of her wearing his leather jacket burned into his retinas. It haunted him. It promised him that they’d see each other again. He had to get it back before he met with Snoke. The old bastard wouldn’t bear to see any of his family members not wearing their colors.

The sunset painted the sky a beautiful golden pink and purple. The truck was almost finished being supplied with decoy packages (just in case they get stopped while crossing the border).

“Is this what you wanted for us when we joined him?” Njord asked, voice still soft, his hands flexing on his handlebars.

In his mind eye’s, Kylo saw Freya bloodied on her boyfriend’s kitchen floor, gritting her teeth, and bearing the pain. He saw Sigyn blinking back tears of humiliation as Snoke makes passive aggressive jabs after jab about her appearance, her body, her ‘feminine hysterics’, about how she’d easily move to his second in command if she’d just _put out_. He saw Baldur, hooked up to wires and IVs, his leg upright in a cast – a job for gone sour because _Snoke_ didn’t care who got hurt. As long as Snoke got his money. And now, tonight, Njord fighting his own battles of morality as Snoke – and by extension – Kylo asked him to transport the very thing that killed his own mother across state lines.

“No.” Kylo finally answered as the truck’s shutter slammed down, “It’s not.”

* * *

Rey craned her neck to check the time on the antique looking clock behind the bar. “Shit, it’s getting late.”

“Is it?” Baldur had long since finished his beer and onion rings, he checked the watch on his wrist, “Ah – time flies.”

It was now or never.

“So – uh – where’s Kylo? He normally hang out around here?” Rey inwardly winced at her tone. She was aiming for _nonchalance_. But Baldur’s answering smile makes her think that she might’ve missed that mark and came off like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“He’ll be back next week.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders fell and she picked at her nails, “Would you…I have something of his and I don’t know how to reach him. Could you pass along my number to him?”

“Of course. I’m surprised the knucklehead hasn’t given you his.” He rolled his eyes, grabbing one of the bar napkins and getting someone to pass along a pen. Rey scribbled her number onto it. Then added her name. Just to be safe. Baldur tucked it away into his flower-embroidered jean pocket.

“You need a ride home?”

Rey shook her head, “I’m good.”

She mentally counted the change in her pocket. She had enough for the bus home. She liked Baldur. Their time together had proven he was a friendly, easy-going person who didn’t ask her difficult questions about her past or her future. He was content to just teach her how to play poker, crack jokes, and eat onion rings. He even bought her a soda. Although, Rey had the sneaking suspicion that no one from the First Order actually paid for anything here.

Rey stood to leave, pulling her arms through the sleeves of her jacket.

“Be safe, little Rey. I’ll make sure Kylo gets this.” He said, patting his chest. Rey muttered a quick thanks – trying to ignore the flush that was blooming on her cheeks. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Yet, it was. She didn’t give out her number to just anyone.

* * *

While Rey was sitting on the bus, her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number –

_:: Just in case you ever need help :-] - Baldur ::_

Rey covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed. She wasn’t sure what she found more endearing. The little smiley face or the fact that he signed his text messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to churn out! Idk WHERE my muse has been. I've been reading a lot of fanfic and kind of...getting into the unfortunate habit of comparing my writing to other peoples? :( which was not a great feeling. 
> 
> Anyway, I came up with a fancast for my Knights of Ren  
>  **Freya:** [Natalie Dormer](https://media.glamour.com/photos/5695a51b93ef4b09520dcf23/master/pass/beauty-2014-07-natalie-dormer-fierce-braid-hairstye-comicon-main.jpg)  
>  **Baldur:** I have no idea, so taking suggestions on this one lol - I thought maybe Jason Momoa ?  
>  **Sigyn:** [ Eleanor Tomilson](https://www.hawtcelebs.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/eleanor-tomlinson-poldark-season-5-promos-3.jpg) Of course, the only difference here is that Sigyn is constantly dying/changing her hair.  
>  **Njord:** [Kit Harringon](https://img.resized.co/spin1038/eyJkYXRhIjoie1widXJsXCI6XCJodHRwczpcXFwvXFxcL21lZGlhLnJhZGlvY21zLm5ldFxcXC91cGxvYWRzXFxcLzIwMTlcXFwvMDRcXFwvMTYxNTI5MDBcXFwvc3BsMTMwNzY2NF8wMDItZTE1NTU0MjQ5NTYxMjktMTAyNHg1MzYuanBnXCIsXCJ3aWR0aFwiOjk3MCxcImhlaWdodFwiOjQ4NSxcImRlZmF1bHRcIjpcImh0dHBzOlxcXC9cXFwvd3d3LnNwaW4xMDM4LmNvbVxcXC9pbWFnZXNcXFwvbm8taW1hZ2UucG5nXCJ9IiwiaGFzaCI6ImQ4M2U1YWE4OWY1MzkxYTA2YzhlN2FjNGYxOTA0NWRkZDAyOWM2ZTEifQ==/kit-harington-doesn-t-give-a-f-k-if-people-don-t-like-got-season-8.jpg) honestly, just give him sleeves of tattoos and some earrings and ur set.


End file.
